


The Sex Therapist

by Whendoestheshipsail



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Play, Anal Play, Author has listened to a podcast, Author is not a therpist, BDSM, Cheating I think, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Disordered Eating, Dom Bucky Barnes, Enemas, Happy Ending, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Insta Love, Insta Lust, Lonely Steve Rogers, M/M, Masochist Steve Rogers, Poor Sharon, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex therapist Bucky, Steve definitely fantasizes about Bucky while he's still with Sharon, Steve is very vain about his ass, Steve wants to be a good boy, Sub Steve Rogers, Tags will be updated, Touch-Starved, Vomiting, anal bleaching, ass worship, blame kevin fiege, bucky likes nice things, don't blame me, grumpy steve rogers, he just wants to be worshipped, insta submission, rough anal sex, soulmates in every reality, steve rogers cries again, steve's fetish is basically his own ass, this idea isn't totally my fault, where's my YSL scarf??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 179,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whendoestheshipsail/pseuds/Whendoestheshipsail
Summary: Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, unhappily
Comments: 2565
Kudos: 648





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feiro/gifts).

> Possible things to be aware of- daddy kink. Bad BDSM practices. consent play. Steve loves the idea that Bucky has to have it and just can't stop himself. I am not a therapist. I listened to several episodes of 'where do we begin' by esther perel, a podcast, which I highly recommend. Steve and Sharon do not have good sex. they both know they're not having a good time. Bucky is Steve's therapist. This is all very dodgy and unethical and he kind of knows that and they talk about it, but if that is something that squigs you out, walk away now. Steve likes the power imbalance of it all.

Steve wouldn’t say that he’s actively hostile towards the idea of ‘_sex therapy_’, but…. Okay, yeah, he is. Really hostile. Really resentful. Really convinced it’s a total waste of time. It sounds made up. A way to humiliate him and just one more new-fangled bullshit way that people of this time throw their money at. THey’re obsessed with sex and their feelings. Endlessly talking about _everything_.

Apparently, including sex. And, _he_ has to pay for it. Sounds like the sort of thing people should pay him to endure. He’d mentioned all of this to Sharon. She was deeply unimpressed. She hadn’t yelled at him, that’s not her style, but there had been a lot of glaring and this sense of ‘why are you such a caveman’ kind of thing that remained unspoken.

But, if he doesn’t go, Sharon is going to break up with him. So he’ll go. On two conditions. One, he won’t see a female therapist. Sharon had rolled her eyes at him like he was being sexist, but he doesn’t want to talk about this_ at all_, and he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with a woman, whom he’s pretty sure is either going to take her side or imagine him having sex, and he hates the idea of both of those things.

Sharon had agreed but had also said ‘your 40’s are showing’ which was her way of saying he was behaving like an outdated misogynistic douchebag. He hated it when she said that.

His other condition, (equally reasonable) was one he’d thought would nip the whole thing in the bud. The equivalent of demanding she find a unicorn or something. He’d only go see a male sex therapist who’d served in the military.

“Why?” she demanded. “What difference could it possibly make?”

It’s not something he can really articulate… and if he tries, it isn’t going to go well. She waits. “There are… expectations of men. Things I try to live by or do and… I’m more likely to listen and give it the benefit of the doubt if it’s from someone with similar life experiences.”

She continued to glare.

“I _don’t _want to go. We don’t need to. If this is something men do, then find a man who can make me buy into this type of…. _therapy_.”He doesn’t say crap. Does he get any praise for that? No.

Sharon had almost punched him. Which also isn’t her style. But he’d definitely seen her fist clench and her weight shift. She’d gritted her teeth, turned around and stalked off. An hour later she’d dropped a file on his desk. She didn’t say ‘boom’ but he got the message.

His name is Bucky Barnes. Stupid name. No wonder he can’t get laid, Steve thinks, smirking to himself. Why else would someone be a sex therapist unless they were also really fucked in the head and trying to get more sex?

He’d lost an arm in Iraq and has been practicing in Brooklyn for five years. He’s 35 and divorced.

_Figures._

So, here they are. Well, here Steve is. Sharon is actually running late which he will not say anything about, but which he will manage to convey his disappointment, without words. She hates that. ‘The history books didn’t say what an asshole you can be,” she says, more and more often.

They said. She chose to overlook that because she wanted to bang him. Apparently, the joke was on her. He clunks his head back against the wall.

The waiting room is bland and tasteful. There’s a common room and four doors leading off of them. One says Bucky Barnes and it’s closed. There’s a white noise machine out front for privacy. The noise is obnoxious. The outer door opens and he’s thinking it’s going to be Sharon but it isn’t. The guy whocomes in is tall, well-muscled (it can’t all be padding), and bundled up head to toe. Scarf over his face and everything. All Steve can see are his eyes. They’re a really lovely color. Gray, maybe blue. Makes him appreciate not being color-blind. Framed by dark lashes and brows.

He was expecting Sharon, that’s why he’s still looking.

“Cold out there.”

“Uh huh,” Steve says, dismissively, and looks back down at his phone to see if Sharon has texted. The guy is watching him. Goosebumps raise on the back of Steve’s neck for no fucking reason. He rolls his shoulders. No news from Sharon. 

“There’s tea or coffee around the corner there, if you want,” he says, jerking his head down a little hallway.

“No.”

“Sparkling water. Soda.”

“What?” Steve asks, letting his annoyance show. This guy needs to shut up and leave him alone. He isn’t going to sign an autograph. He doesn’t want to talk about why he might be here with some other sad sack.

“Just options.”

“I’m here to talk, not drink.” It’s dickish enough that anybody else would stop talking to him immediately. Steve can be intimidating even when he’s sitting down. He knows that. He tries not to use it to his advantage, but sometimes… god, he just wants to get the hell out of here.

“Fair enough,” he says, unwrapping his scarf. Steve glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he takes off his scarf, revealing the lower half of his face.

And, _oh_. He’s unbelievably handsome. His eyes are blue now, his cheeks are pink chapped. He takes off his hat, and brown, tousled hair, with a bit of curl in it flops onto his forehead. Uh huh. Steve looks back down at his phone. Where the hell is Sharon?

Sometimes, every now and again, a guy will make an impression. Like a punch to the gut and Steve has a horrible urge to respond as if it is a physical hit and… well, go down to his knees.

He won’t look at him again.

The time changes, now it’s 2:30 and the therapist is late, too. Fucking perfect. He sighs and shoves his phone into his back pocket, annoyed at the world as he rubs his hands on his thighs. Too much energy.

“Do you like matcha?” asks the hot guy.

Steve looks at him. Looks at his mouth and the divot in his chin, the column of his neck and his broad shoulders. The way his cheeks are becoming flushed as he warms up.

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It’s like green tea? It’s a thing. People like it. You can even get it at Starbucks.”

“I hate Starbucks,” Steve says, repressively. He doesn’t mean to duck his head and look away, it just happens. The hot guy is just…. Where the fuck is Sharon? Where is ‘_Bucky.’_

“Oh? You a Pete’s guy?”

“Who’s Pete?”

Hot guy smirks at him. “No one.”

The door opens again and Sharon comes in. “You’re late,” Steve murmurs, shoving dutifully to his feet and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Hot guy is watching. Steve kisses her on the mouth. She was already moving back so it’s awkward.

“I’m sorry. Fury wouldn’t stop talking and then there was a delay on the subway,” she says, sounding frazzled.

“It doesn’t matter, your therapist isn’t even here anyway,” Steve says.

The attractive guy speaks up. “Oh, sorry. I thought you figured it out. That’s me. Not just some random guy offering you drinks,” he smiles. He takes off his gloves and one hand is metal. He offers his flesh hand to shake.

“Bucky, nice to meet you.”

“Steve. Rogers. Nice to meet you.” Steve kind of wants to die. If he’d known this was the therapist he would have been slightly less of an asshole. Probably.

Bucky squints. Blinks. “Huh. Okay.”

Steve would bet a dollar that Bucky just figured out who he is.

At least he isn’t saying anything or asking for an autograph. Bucky shakes hands with Sharon, tells her about the beverages. She’s downright grateful.

Steve takes her coat and scarf, follows Bucky into his office while Sharon goes to get something to drink. He hangs up her coat while Bucky hangs up his. Steve can smell his cologne. His shampoo. Steve holds his breath instead. He waits near the door for Sharon while Bucky goes behind his desk, grabs paper and a pen, one of those legal notepads, and sits down in a chair.

Bucky’s wearing slacks and a collared shirt that’s got a button undone. A nice cashmere sweater, good quality leather shoes. Sharp. Steve appreciates that the guy doesn’t look like a total slob in jeans. Not that he would say that out loud. He has, on more than one occasion, and it doesn’t get a good reaction. One of those opinions he’s found is best to keep to himself because somehow he seems like a jerk, even though the other person is the one who isn’t even trying. Bizarre. Like Steve’s just going to _ignore_ the fact that the waiter at a really expensive restaurant is wearing jeans and has greasy hair? It’s called personal accountability. 

It’s hygiene. Self-respect, even.

Sharon comes in then, carrying an overly full cup of coffee and sits on the couch. It spills because, of course it does. Steve shakes his head once in annoyance and grabs a tissue, wipes it off the leather and throws it away, comes back and sits down.

Fifty five fucking minutes to go.

Sharon is looking at her coffee intently. She blows on it, stirs it, takes a small sip. She’s waiting him out. Steve looks to Bucky. His, ‘this is your fucking operation so get on with it, look.’ Bucky’s been in the military, he won’t take offense. Probably.

Bucky smiles, too bright, probably insincere. “Before we get too far into it, I always like to ask if you’ve done therapy before?”

“Yes.” Steve says and Sharon nods.

“How was that experience?”

“Oh, it was amazing,” Steve says, sarcastically. “When Sharon said we needed to come here or else it was over, I was over-joyed.” Hmm, possibly he didn’t need to be _quite_ so hostile at the outset.

Sharon exhales, says nothing. She isn’t looking at Steve or Bucky. Her coffee cup is a crystal ball or something.

“So, you got an ultimatum?” Bucky says, and Steve can’t place his tone.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve seen enough propaganda to know that giving Captain America an ultimatum isn’t a great idea. Does it work for Steve Rogers?”

“I’m here,” Steve says, smiling sharply.

“I guess so. Thank you for being here,” Bucky says, inclining his head a little, like he’s actually glad Steve’s there. Sure, he’s probably happy they’re here spending an insane amount of money to drink his shitty coffee and moan about their horrible sex-life for an hour. “You are not alone in hating therapy. And, sex therapy, in particular is one of those things that people are pretty polarized about.”

“In what way?” Steve asks, and yeah, he is trying to catch him out.

“A lot of people don’t like to talk about bad experiences and their own personal feelings and traumas. There’s a lot of shame around sex and sexuality and when you combine the two, people can react in hostile or unpredictable ways. So, thank you for being here. It isn’t easy.”

Steve nods. That is factually accurate and he has nothing unpleasant to say in response. Fifty one minutes to go.

“What didn’t you like about therapy?” Bucky asks, looking at Steve and then Sharon.

Steve turns to Sharon. She’s still looking intently into her coffee. He glares at Bucky, willing him to turn his attention to Sharon. Bucky holds out a hand towards Steve, nods. “I know,” he says, gently, “You won’t be in the hot seat forever.”

Steve stops himself from grinding his teeth, hands claspingin his lap. He takes a breath and lets it out. His heart is beating too fast and as much as he doesn’t want to be here, he hates that Sharon is practically cowered into the corner of the couch. She’s a strong, beautiful woman and this is what six months with him has made of her.

“I get that you don’t want to be here. But, it’s just talking. Pretend you’re stuck behind enemy lines with nothing to do,” Bucky says, shrugging. His voice has changed, the way he’s looking at Steve is different, too. Something flips around inside Steve and he makes himself stay still and calm, even as he fills up with awareness. The full weight of Bucky’s attention on him, the lack of judgement, even though Steve has been a colossal dick. Steve feels it. He doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s making it up. “Imagine we’re at that point where you’ve exhausted every detail of one’s bodily functions, stories of growing up and getting dumped, and you need something to talk about. This is just like that. Talk to me. I won’t take offense and I can promise you that I’ve heard a lot worse things than anything you might say.”

Steve gets that punched in the stomach feeling again. Like he can’t catch a breath and he might get hard. It’s an invitation to intimacy. “Really? I was frozen for 70 years,” he says, flatly, rejecting it. “Doesn’t get more unusual than that.”

“Oh, my _god._ I’m sure he knows you were frozen for 70 years,” Sharon says, annoyed. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Bucky’s brows raise and then lower, like he’s surprised, but he’s going to hide it. Steve sits back in the seat, crosses his arms and waits. What is the fucking point?

“You know what? Sharon, maybe just give us a few minutes. And then, I’ll talk to you for a few minutes, and we’ll see about coming back together?”

“Fantastic,” she says, utterly sincere. She moves to the door and gets the hell out before Bucky can change his mind.

“How long have you been together?” Bucky asks, and his tone has that ‘we’re friends’ quality. They’re _not_ friends. Steve has no friends.

“Six months.”

“How did you meet?”

“She lived next door. Turned out she was put there to keep an eye on me. Spy on me for the government. And here we are.”

Bucky frowns. “When did you findout she was spying on you?”

“Three months ago,” he says.

“Didn’t that… did that make you angry?”

“We all have jobs,” Steve says.

Bucky smiles and then shakes his head. “Well, yeah. But… Do you think of yourself as a trusting person?”

“I’m someone who reacts to the people around me, and the world I live in. She’s a good person, she’s made difficult decisions and I respect her.”

“That’s one of those answers that’s not an answer,” Bucky says, one corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

Fuck him. “No, it’s an answer.”

“And yet, I still don’t know if you were angry or not. How did you find out?”

“I have an eidetic memory. She was talking to someone I saw once on a mission who happened to be a friend of hers. It made me suspicious. I went back to her apartment, looked around, found her passport and checked the stamps. It lined up to various missions SHIELD had been running. I confronted her and she confessed.”

“And you weren’t… mad?”

“I wanted to let it go,” he says, very calm and very rational. He maintains eye contact. He won’t be the one to look away first. Bucky’s gaze drops. Steve has a moment of thinking he’s won some invisible contest.

“Can you relax your hands?”

Steve can feel them then, how tightly held together they are. He looks down slowly, even as his heart rate picks up again. His knuckles are white. Fuck. He relaxes. Shifts on the couch and resettles himself. How does a relaxed person look? Maybe kind of like this, he thinks as he crosses his legs and puts a hand on the arm of the couch.

“What are you thinking?” Bucky asks, quietly.

“I’m thinking you probably feel pretty pleased with yourself. But, it’s not a big deal.” 

“She must be pretty special.”

“She is.”

“Did she feel guilty?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Do you think she would have told you, if you hadn’t worked it out?”

He wants to leave. His stomach hurts. The space behind his eyes hurts. He wants to rub his forehead and try to spread out the headache but it would undoubtedly be seen as some sort of weakness or like it meant something and it doesn’t. When he speaks, he sounds tired. It also doesn’t mean anything.

“I want to keep this relationship, and your line of questioning isn’t helpful. Move it along or I’ll leave.”

“Okay. Can we backup? Sorry. You had some bad therapy experiences. Do you want to tell me about that?”

“Want to? No. Hell, no.” He waits. It’s like they’re playing a game of chicken here. Bucky wants him to be vulnerable. Steve wants to leave. He wants to keep himself to himself and make the time fucking pass so he can tell Sharon he did his part and then never, ever come back here again. The silence feels oppressive.

“What do you think she’s hoping to get out of this?”

“That sounds like something you should ask her.”

“I guess you’re right,” Bucky says. Bucky puts his pen and paper down on his chair, flipping the top page, which is blank, over so Steve can’t see what he’s written. Bucky gets to his feet and goes to the door, holds it open so Steve can go out.

“I’m dismissed?”

“Aren’t you relieved?” Bucky asks, his very handsome face perfectly calm. There isn’t anything to say to that. Steve leaves and Sharon gets up off the couch, looking between the two of them.

“You forgot your coffee,” Steve says, because it’s sitting on the table, full and like the prop she clearly thought it was.

“Oh,” she says, and goes back to get it. As if she actually wanted it. What a bunch of bullshit. Neither of them come back out and Steve sits in the waiting room like a fucking moron for forty minutes. When the door finally opens, Bucky is there and he looks…. Who knows.

Sharon’s eyes are red-rimmed. He gestures for Steve to come back into the room. “I’m really sorry, I hate leaving it at this point, things being so unsettled between you. It’s always best to try to end on a positive note. At least, a little. We just ran out of time. When do you both want to come back?”

“As tempting as your waiting room is, I’m not sure that’s necessary. We’ll call you,” Steve says, letting the barest hint of his carefully controlled anger come out. Bucky’s gaze slides back to him, looking at Steve like he’s finally said something interesting.

“Sharon would like for you both to come back. If it’s a question of money—”

“It has _nothing_ to do with money,” Steve practically growls.

“Steve. Please,” she says, and her eyes well with tears again. “Thank you, doctor, we do want to come back… as soon as possible. I’ll talk to Steve about the appointment on Wednesday,” she says, and puts her arm through Steve’s, tugging him to the exit.

“Doctor?” Steve asks, loud enough for Bucky to hear. “He’s not a doctor.”

“You know,” Bucky says, very blandly, as if he isn’t getting ready to say something that Steve is absolutely going to detest, “by the time I got into the military, people weren’t made captain just because they’d punched Adolf Hitler on stage. How many times was it? It’s a famous quote, you know.”

Steve turns back, goes closer. He knows how intimidating his size can be, how easy it is to threaten someone without doing a damned thing. He never does it because it’s a dick move, but this guy… Bucky is leaning against the door frame, casual as anything, a small smile on his face. Steve gets close. Bucky tilts his head. He’s not that much shorter than Steve. It must be something in the way he’s standing that makes him seem shorter. It’s intentional, Steve realizes, his posture too loose, knee soft even as he loses inches with leaning.

It’s disconcerting, threatening this guy and having him basically surrender. He isn’t really, though. He’s just looking at Steve, observing him, like he’s an experiment. As though he’s wondering what the trained monkey might do next. It’s only now that Steve’s close that he realizes he has nothing to say. Nothing to _do. _He can’t touch him. Bucky’s head inclines to the right, the universal, ‘hey look over there’ head nod and Steve does. There’s a diploma on the wall. PHD. Doctor James Buchanan Barnes it says.

Steve’s stunned. His hands become clammy. It’s like he’s 9 years old and someone has taunted him on the playground. He’s about to get the shit kicked out of himself for running his smart mouth. Seconds pass as he gets himself together again. Reminds himself he isn’t that useless boy with more bravado than sense. He’s smart. He’s good. He’s a good man, Dr. Erskine said so.

Bucky moves and Steve has no choice but to look at him as he is suddenly his full height, something broad and commanding in Bucky’s gaze. They’re eye level. It’s a lot. He still has nothing to say. Bucky takes a step forward. Steve knows the step is about to happen, can read the ‘you back the fuck up’ in his expression. He does. Steve drops his gaze, turns around and they leave, his arm around Sharon. He isn’t alone. He has her.

In the hallway, his chest feels tight. She offers him his coat. He takes it and the scarf, puts them on. “I’ll be right back,” he says, having to clear his throat as he goes to the bathroom in the hallway. Thank god it’s open and it’s just a private toilet. He locks the door, puts his back to it and sinks to the ground. He’s shaking. Why?

His mouth fills with saliva like he might throw up. He can’t stay in here for too long or she’ll _know_. His reaction doesn’t even make any sense. He doesn’t feel guilty. Or ashamed. He doesn’t feel like a lie. Like this _doctor_ has taken one look at him and realized just how useless he is. He pukes.

When he comes out, Sharon is talking on the phone. “I have to go in,” she says. They walk out together and she turns to go the other way. She doesn’t even give him a kiss on the cheek.

Steve has the thought, just a crazy, random thought, that he could break into Bucky’s office to see what the man wrote about him. He won’t. That would be insane. It’s just one person’s opinion, anyway. So, who cares? Everyone has an opinion about him and sure, a lot of them are positive, but there are enough negative ones out there that he’s able to take it in stride. It’s not like he tried to make a good impression.

It was actually the total opposite. He acted like a dick and Bucky let him. Seemed to relent at every point, letting Steve get out of one difficult moment after another, letting him leave and then hauling him up like a naughty child at the very end, as if he knew that Steve would keep going, become more and more obnoxious and then, when he’d had enough, just at that last moment, he slammed into Steve and knocked him on his ass.

Not just imposing himself physically in Steve’s space, but pointing out how smart he is, taking advantage of Steve’s shock, forcing him to back up. Steve has no idea what to do with that.

He goes to the gym. It’s a good way to think about anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments! I'm going to try to post every day and respond to every comment. All the interaction definitely makes the quarantine easier and hopefully this story is also a welcome distraction for you.

Sharon gets home late. Steve is already in bed reading. He turns off his light when the front door opens and puts the book down, forces himself to breathe evenly. Maybe she’ll think he’s asleep and leave him alone. She comes into the bedroom and goes straight into the bathroom as she gets ready for bed. His heart rate calms. He definitely seems asleep now, he thinks, just as the bed dips and she lays down beside him.

“You can see the light from the street, you know.”

He rolls to his back. Sighs. “Yeah. I thought it was something we both chose not to mention.” It’s not the first time one of them has pretended to be asleep so they could avoid each other.

Her exhale is shaky. “Well, not talking about things has clearly served us both so well.”

“How was work?” Steve asks.

“We’re seeing him again on Wednesday at 10.” So, right to it then.

“I have a meeting.”

“I checked. You don’t. It’s been blocked into your calendar,” she says, and doesn’t sound smug so much as tired. Of them. Ugh.

He turns his head on the pillow to see her. She’s staring at the ceiling, eyes open. She’s got a negligee on. It’s soft pink and is more lace than anything else. It’s a signal. She wants to have sex if he does.

He doesn’t. He really, really fucking doesn’t. She moves fast, is over him, straddling him and he can feel that she’s just damp heat through his thin boxer briefs. She leans down to kiss him, more teeth than lips and tongue, her nails pricking into his chest before she stops herself. “You know I want you, don’t you? Just you, not your status or even this body, but you?”

He laughs. His fingers are clenched into the bedding so he doesn’t dump her off of him. He licks his lips. She tastes like vanilla and mint chapstick. “You never even _met_ me. Of course you wouldn’t have liked me as I was before.” Where the hell did she get that line?

“I would have… I would have liked you even if you weren’t my mission,” she says, quietly.

Her eyes are intense as they stare into his, barely visible and washed dark, colorless in the closed up room. “This is what made you cry? This is what you talked about with him? He told you that you should make an effort to show me that you like me for _me?_ He’s a fucking idiot.”

“No, he’s not. He’s right. It was wrong and we’ve never discussed it. Not really. We just pretend it isn’t there. It’s a big issue to have between us. Of course other things become more complicated,” she says, her thighs flexing, an unspoken reference to the fact that he isn’t getting hard, usually doesn’t get hard unless there’s a plan. She sometimes puts that in his calendar, too.

‘Date night’ is what they call it. 

Steve tries to think of what to say. What to do. He puts his hands on her thighs, thumbs gently rubbing the smooth skin. He understands what she’s trying to do and he is grateful. It even kind of makes him hate the therapist a little bit less. “I appreciate that you care about me and us. I care about you, too. But, you talk about some of this stuff and then you have to talk about all of it and I promise you, that isn’t an outcome you’ll like.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she asks, sharply.

“Leave it alone. Please.”

“No. We can’t do that anymore. Do you want this to work?”

“Yes. God, yes.” That part is true. When it’s down to that one simple truth, the answer is easy. She is the person in his corner. She is what he has and the number of people who’ve really cared about him don’t even fit on one hand. His ma, Peggy, and Sharon. He’s lucky to have her and this. That she keeps wanting to try.

“Then… please?”

“How did my mother die?” he asks her, just to give her an example of all the shit they could talk about that would only hurt them more than help. 

“You’ve never said.”

“But you know,” he says, thinking he sounds pretty patient. “Everyone knows.”

“Okay. Tb. A nurse,” she says, softly.

“And what was your cover? What did you say the first time I asked you over for coffee?”

She’s silent. “I don’t remember.”

That’s a fucking lie. “You said you were an infectious disease nurse. Was that to scare me away or to make me like you?”

Her laugh is uncomfortable. “I’m not sure it was that intentional. I have medical training and scrubs are cheap.”

“You were surprised I offered to let you use my machine. Your response, when you said no, that was off the top of your head. That you were covered in the disease that killed my mother. It’s such a weird thing to say to someone when you want to get close to them. I remember backing up, instinctively….” He has to swallow. “My instinct was fear. You tried to salvage it, say something flirty. But… I don’t know if there’s anything worse or more upsetting you could have said to me. What was the goal there? What reaction did you want from me?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s not like that. It wasn’t. I swear. It was a cover, Steve. A very bad choice, apparently.”

He wishes she would just stop lying to him. Why do people who care for you _always_ lie? His ma always lied to him- she’d be better, he’d get better, she’d never leave him. Peggy had promised him a dance, promised the war would end and he’d be able to _stop_ at some point. And now Sharon’s lying to him and the lies are fine so long as they don’t have to deal with them. The lies only work if everyone agrees to not call anyone out on them.

Maybe it’s because she’s young. Has grown up in a time period where there are lots of things and people to love her, protect her. She was safe for all of her life and she just doesn’t have the life experience he does, to know how difficult it can be to hold on to something good. They need to keep their heads down and not dredge up all of these things. You don’t shine the light on all the bugs in the corner of the room.

“If this is the kind of thing you think is good for us to dwell on, then I’ve always wondered what the purpose was of you saying that. Did you choose that profession? Was it spontaneous to say you couldn’t have coffee because of being on the ward? I mean, wouldn’t they have wanted you to say yes and get close to me? Were you meant to remind me of my mother? You’re blonde like her. Your cover was a nurse. And if that wasn’t enough… there’s Peggy. Maybe I’d like her niece? What was the reason they chose you? Do you still report on me? Is this _better,_ Sharon?” he asks, voice hard. “Asking all of these things isn’t going to make us happy.”

She moves off of him. “If that’s what you really think then why are we here? Why did we move in together? You fucking suggested it!”

Deep breath in and out. Calm. Collected. He’s the grown up here and it’s his job to make things better between them. “This is why we don’t stir up trouble. Talking about it doesn’t help. Some interloper who wants to ask questions and act like he knows everything is the last thing we need. I care for you deeply. Haven’t I proved it?” he asks, moving closer, sliding his hand over her hip and to her ass.

“I want to be here with you. You’re smart and beautiful. You’re _perfect, _Sharon. Can’t we just move on from all of this?” he asks, voice dropping. He kisses her neck, that satiny expanse of skin and moves over her. She makes a sound in pleasure, eyes blowing wide. She loves it when he’s big and looming. His strength gets her off. He gets his hands in the right place,planted beside her on the bed so his muscles stand out. He lowers himself to her mouth, basically a push up, and she presses up to meet his mouth and kiss him.

She whimpers. _There._ He can do this, give this to her. It’s easy to use his size and make her feel wanted. Isn’t that what everyone wants? At least, sometimes? He kisses along her chest and down her stomach, wants to go between her legs.

“Wait. Let me. You always go down on me.”

“I’m fine. I love this,” he says, spreading her thighs. He knows what she likes and he does that. Gets her to come, gives her a minute and then makes her come again. “One more, baby?” he asks.

“No, let’s… I just want to go to sleep now,” she says, voice wavering. “Un…unless?” It’s so hesitant.

“I jerked off right before you got back. I’m fine. Maybe tomorrow morning if you have time?” he asks.

“Sure. Maybe tomorrow morning,” she says. She faces away from him. Steve gets out of bed, brushes his teeth, washes his hands, wanders the apartment, antsy. He eats an apple, drinks orange juice. At 2 am he takes a shower, scrubs himself clean.

This is all _Doctor_ Barnes’ fault. He should fuck Sharon in the morning, do it proper, come twice maybe, and leave the little bruises on her hips that she used to get all excited about when they first started having sex. He just hadn’t known his own strength but she thought it was a sign of how much he wanted her.

He won’t correct her. But, he doesn’t bruise her now. And, he’s totally got the oral sex down. Fuck Barnes. He touches himself, knows he has to work himself up now if the plan for tomorrow is to fuck Sharon. Twice. God. 

He needs to get it right. No mistakes. No… _problems._

He likes touching himself in the shower, but gets out to make sure he’s locked the bathroom door, the idea of Sharon walking in on him jerking off is a nightmare.

He gets back in and touches himself, his balls and his nipples. They’re super sensitive if he puts in the time. Maybe he should if he wants to fuck her twice. He doesn’t let on how sensitive they are because it’s not manly, but pinching them and really working them gets him hot. He has to do it for awhile, before the sensation registers, goes from bland touch to sensitive and then to distracting and overwhelming.

He starts to get swollen, _sore,_ almost bruised and that’s when the feeling slides into something arousing. Something he usually can’t stop doing until he comes. He pulls his hands away from his chest with a quiet gasp, shoves them flat onto the tile as he gets himself to calm down, get far enough away from the edge so he can work himself up again.

It takes a few minutes, his mood darkening. He just wants to _come_. He’s hard, really hard, and he should get to come. He should get that reward and bit of fleeting pleasure, but he’s got to save it. Has to give it to Sharon in the morning, share it with her.

Nothing is just his. He wants to touch his nipples. They’re throbbing. He angles so they’re under the water, the pressure hard enough, him sore enough that he can feel it, a line straight down his body to his cock. He’s much too close to play with them again, he realizes. Maybe… maybe he could come once now and still get it up for Sharon tomorrow?

It isn’t worth the risk and he knows it.

He pushes the need to touch his chest as far away as he can. That’s over now. Just move on. Already the throbbing is barely noticeable. He didn’t have enough time to really work them and there’s a damned good chance that by the time the morning comes he won’t have any residual feeling in his nipples at all.

He got distracted. Let himself get distracted. He fucked it up. Got too worked up and maybe this serves him right.

He has to focus on the goal. He turns off the shower and goes to his closet. There are a lot of things he can’t use on himself or doesn’t want to use if he isn’t going to come. He has a dildo that suction cups to the wall though, and that’s a necessity to get himself ready for tomorrow.

He has to feel that ache deep inside, be sore in his hole, have feeling there so he can stay really hard. He gets it in position, uses a lube shooter because he doesn’t put his fingers in his ass unless he’s allowing himself to come.

He squeezes the shaft of the dildo carefully, as if it’s precious, loves the texture of it, the feel of it in his hands, how right it is. It just sits in his hand well. He gets it on the wall and wants to get the cock slicked up, his hand wet and just stroke it. He realizes he’s jerking himself off and drops both hands, takes deep breaths while he calms back down.

His erection is viciously hard and flushed against his stomach, come weeping out the tip already. He grabs a kleenex and wipes it up, buying time. He touches his balls, they’re rock solid against his body. Yeah, he could definitely fuck Sharon right now. And he knows himself well enough to be aware that he’s at a tipping point here.

He’s too hard and too worked up and there’s a good chance he might come and ruin the whole plan. The sensible thing to do…. He drags in a breath and lets it out. Doesn’t even want to think it. He presses his knuckles hard against his eyes. So stupid to cry over it. Be a fucking man already and make a god damned decision instead of standing here like an idiot being miserable.

The sensible thing to do is to put the fucking dildo away and just go back to bed. He’s hard enough. Screw tomorrow, he should wake her up now and fuck her.

But.

But, this has been the worst fucking day. Maybe the worst day since he came out of the ice. He hasn’t felt this lost and alone for awhile. This uncertain and god he wants that dick inside him.

The grief and loneliness, the _denial_ always hit him hard and nothing makes him go soft faster then this feeling that he can’t even have _this_, a fake cock, in the middle of the night, in the privacy of his own closet with the god damned bathroom door locked.

He’s soft. He got maudlin and self-pitying and now he’s gone soft. Idiot.

There is a good side to all of this. The edge of coming is gone. He can manage it now, he thinks, cupping himself and then letting go. He gets to have the cock. He clenches inside, has that sense of being all wet, this secret part of him prepared to give and accommodate.

It’s his. He gets to have it.

He drops to all fours, holds the cock in place while he presses back onto it. He knows how he gets, puts his mouth on his arm, sucks on his own skin, needing somewhere to bury the moan that always fucking escapes him at that first kiss of big cock to his tight hole.

He lets it happen, solid and real, pressed against where he’s hot and tight, seemingly impenetrable, but he isn’t. He’ll give.

As soon as the cock touches his hole he’ll feel better. His hips press back and there it is, that first touch. Inexorable. This is happening now. A feeling of peace washes over him.

There’s the moan. Everything is suddenly right. A shudder of relief goes through him. This is the only thing that matters, the only task he has and he can do this. It’s part of the litany he tells himself. It’s usually his own voice urging him on, telling him to hurry and take it, that he’s perfect at it, his ass is built for it, but this time it’s different.

‘_You better hurry,_’ Steve thinks, over and over again, but, it’s Bucky’s voice now, telling him he ‘_better make it fast, better get it done, come on, Steve_.’ So much expectation. He cannot fail.

“I won’t,” he whispers and sinks onto it. The head breaches him, the width of it accentuated, flared. This is the most difficult part. Isn’t it? He arches his back like he’s trying to get away from it. Maybe he is.

I was wrong, this _isn’t_ what I was built for, he thinks, as his body struggles with opening and taking. It’s difficult without fingers to prep him. Tears fill his eyes and he imagines a hand on his face, forcing eye contact, wanting to see him be vulnerable. ‘_No excuses, you want it or you don’t,_’ Bucky says, inclining his head so Steve knows he’s talking about Bucky’s cock. He’s got to take this dildo, to get Bucky’s cock? Is that how he’s going to think of it? Yeah, that’s it exactly, he decides, Steve’s hard cock dripping as the fantasy forms. It was just that gesture, the knowledge and confidence, his superiority over Steve, that just wrecked him.

He’s so fucking hard.

Time for a quick decision- does he want it or not? He imagines both and almost comes at the idea of protesting. _I don’t want it, I can’t do it. No_.He holds still, counts to ten.

Not that then. 

He can’t come. The head is in, but there’s still the rest to take. _I do want it,_ he thinks, when he’s calmed down enough. He wants to be put through his paces, shown off. Made to endure, the threat of disappointment, but he _won’t_. Because he’s perfect at this. In the end, just at the last moment, he’ll find the strength inside himself, Bucky will help him find the strength, and he won’t fail. “I’ll take it. I want it.”

God, he fucking wants it. He endures, presses back and back until the balls press against his own. ‘_Good boy.’_ That’s the response he’d get for taking this big cock. He comes.

He makes a sound, tries to cut it off and is terrified he was too loud. That it will wake up Sharon. His cock is still spurting as he’s pulling off the dildo, passage spasming, body still coming down from how good it was and he can’t even get those few seconds.

_God damn it._ He shoves it into his closet. He’ll have to clean it tomorrow when she’s gone. He can’t risk her waking up. His heart is pounding. He fumbles the wipe, dropping it, before doing a hasty wipe at his hole. Disgusting. He can’t even clean up properly now. He cleans up come from the floor, can see where it landed and will have to fix that tomorrow, too. Bleach. He washes his hands. He listens intently at the door.

She’s asleep. He thinks. He opens the door and goes back to bed, leaves his underwear off because that’s more likely to help him wake up hard. “Did you have a bad dream?” she mumbles.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

She does. Within ten breaths she’s out like a light.

He touches his soft cock. It’s sticky. He came. His ass is wet with lube. He clenches. He doesn’t even hurt back there, that’s how fast he came. Fuck. He presses fingers to his nipples. They’re not that sore. He has nothing to help him get there.

Can he fuck her tomorrow morning? It’s a horrible idea to try if he isn’t certain he can finish the job. And, he doesn’t want to make her feel bad just because he’s inadequate. _Impotent. _He’s just some fucked up idiot who has to have everything perfect and the stars aligned to be good enough for her and fuck her properly.

He’ll get up and go for a run, early. See her at work. No sex tomorrow. He puts his underwear back on so there’s no misunderstandings. They’ll both be happier that way.


	3. Chapter 3

The week passes and it’s the morning of their next appointment with Bucky. Steve reaches for Sharon across the bed, hard and so ready, but the bed is cold. She’s up already. _Shit_. There’s a thump from her closet, the sound of her dropping two shoes onto the floor, ready to leave.

She comes out wearing a blouse buttoned all the way to the top, a tight, knee length skirt and her ‘professional-two-inch-heels,’ as she calls them. She gives him a smile. “So, I’ll see you at 10?”

“Uh, yeah. Guess so. You… you sure you don’t have a minute? Maybe… 10?” he asks, and just saying it out loud makes him uncomfortable.

She blushes. “Oh, yeah?”

“I was thinking about you,” he says, positive he sounds lame. This isn’t sexy. 

“What about me?” she asks, with a really polite, gentle smile.

“What… what do you mean?”

“You woke up hard thinking about me, so what, in particular, about me?”

He swallows hard. “How good you feel. How much I care about you,” he says, pretty sure it comes out like a question, which is not good.

“Raincheck? Tonight? We’ll have time and it will be nice to reconnect that way after the session,” she says, and comes around the bed to give him a kiss. She pulls back, reaches for him, feeling how hard he is under the sheet.

“Well, hello, Captain,” she says, and gives him a flirty look before leaving him in bed. _Raincheck. Fucking raincheck. _Like it’s easy and he can just magically wave up another erection later. He should have set an alarm so he’d wake up earlier and they could have had it.

_Fuck_. He’s furious with himself.

She’s gone. He’d been very careful all week long, gearing up to fuck her before this god damned appointment. He’d milked himself the rest of the week. All fucking week he’d gotten on hands and knees in his closet, used the little prostate massager (it wasn’t evenelectric!), tilting it back and forth endlessly, rubbing it against his prostate until he emptied, drove himself crazy with frustration and how unsatisfying it was, didn’t even allow himself to come, and it was all so that they’d go into this appointment and she wouldn’t be able to say fuck all about him not getting it up.

He’s so god damned frustrated he could cry with it. He was going to fuck her brains out before this appointment.

And he didn’t wake up in time.

He sighs, presses his palms to his eyes. It takes him a few minutes to let the anger settle, the disappointment in himself. He shifts just a little and the sheet rubs over his aching erection. He groans, smooths the sheet down carefully over his cock, looking at it through the sheet. How good it looks, how big. The sheet gets wet, a damp spot growing from where he’s leaking. He shoves the sheet away from him.

He checks the time. It’s only 6 and he’s got an hour long meeting at 8:30 and then half an hour to get to the therapist. Which means he kind of has an hour to kill if he wanted to do something pretty involved with this erection he’s sporting.

He lets himself really look at _it_. Hands going to the inside of his thighs and stroking gently upwards, all roads lead to the same destination. He’s really red and the week of denial and minimal releasing has even made his balls a little fuller. His cock is so hard and pretty right now.

He can’t wait. The idea of denying himself, yet again, when he looks like this and feels so _ready, _when there’s all this _time. _Fuck it. He’ll worry about the ‘raincheck’ issue later.

He touches himself, a finger along the head, gentle. An hour. He has time for a really good enema. He cleans himself out twice, laying on a towel in the bathroom with his eyes closed, filled with water, beginning to cramp and he imagines… he imagines waiting.

That’s all. Being on the floor of a large bathroom while his master gets ready for the day. He imagines laying there, patient and good, while his master shaves in front of the mirror, tells him what they’ll have for dinner, puts a foot on his nipple or against his cheek. Affectionate. A reminder of his place.

“Good boy,” he’d murmur and Steve might get a foot casually pressed to his balls while his master brushes his teeth. He might get helped up from the ground when it was time to eliminate. He’d meet his master’s gaze. Blue eyes, brown hair.

Bucky.

It’s always Bucky now. It was that look, and his eyes. How intent he was. And, even the things he said to Sharon about Steve, about his perspective and how he might feel betrayed with all the lying, that was… nice. He’s come to terms with it over the last few days, how nice that was. Bucky took his side in that office. Steve didn’t even know. Bucky didn’t do it to win favor with Steve or as a trick.

The quiet support, unasked for and with no possible gain fills him with an indescribable glow.

Obviously, people have supported him before. But not… men. Men supported _Captain America_ in the war, gave Captain America resources, listened to Captain America’s ideas, but this is just _him_, his mind and his feelings, the quiet part of him, the actual Steve Rogers part of him is what Bucky had quietly supported.

Bucky apparently told Sharon she needed to do better. Reassure Steve that she wants just him.

It means the fantasy he’s always had of a strong man taking care of him, wanting him, being responsible for him for a change, is now firmly Bucky in his mind. He can’t help it.

And, trying to reconcile that support with the end of the appointment and how he’d made Steve back up, how he’d watched and examined Steve and then utterly wrecked him emotionally, has definitely played into his deepest fantasies.

He’d _know_ Steve, care about him, but there’s still that distance, that control and dominance, that means he would wait for Steve to give in, to look down and away. If Bucky were his master, he’d make Steve back up every single time.

_Gently_.

Steve would always know who was in charge. And thank god, for once in his life, it wouldn’t fucking be him. His master would be kind and devoted but _firm_. That’s part of being a good master. Like being a good leader, sometimes a master has to make the tough call for Steve and the both of them.

He’s always had to rely on his own opinion, only had input from people if he asked or they were there, Peggy or even the Avengers, but they all defer to the pretend version of him and it’s a lot sometimes. In his fantasies, with Bucky as his master, deciding what’s best for Steve, he can just be. Just trust.

He knows what it feels like to trust. He’d trusted his ma until the day she died. He’d had some trust in Peggy, but he knew that the SSR came first, that Peggy cared about him but would always put the good of everyone above him.

His ma had put his needs above her own and everyone else’s and it wasn’t until she’d died and the world tossed him around and ground him down that he realized what he’d lost. Faith in a person. Confidence in one’s devotion. Being paramount to someone else. That basket of invisible, undefinable things, emotions, are not tangible, quantifiable things.

He wants to be filled up with them. His master would fill him up.

And Steve would be ever so good. Good enough to own and worship. To always be wanted. He’d give his master his very best. And that starts with his physical self.

He’d always be completely, perfectly clean. Of course he’d give that to Bucky. So this is where his fantasies always seem to start. Him, on the ground, preparing himself for his master’s pleasure as part of how he starts the day.

‘_Play with your tits_,’ his master orders and he does, pinching his nipples, his body confused on whether he should feel uncomfortable or aroused. He starts to cramp inside and has to stop touching his chest, to keep his hands on his stomach, protective, as the water works inside him. He feels carefully, likes to imagine there’s more of a bulge than there is.

Bucky would look down at him. Maybe Steve would whimper at the discomfort and that would bring Bucky down to the ground _with_ him. Checking on him. His good boy. Willing to change his body, endure for him. The bulge is a visible sign of what he’ll take for _him_.

God, he has to go. He fumbles for his watch, presses the timer and stares at the seconds ticking down until he can release it all. He groans and presses his face into the towel, checks the time again. 30 seconds. That’s all. It’s not a lot of time. It isn’t. Is that a trickle of water coming out of him?

He’s terrified he’s going to fail. He can’t. He can’t make it. 15 seconds. He gets to his feet, dashes to the toilet, refusing to sit down, to let go until the timer beeps.

It beeps and he eliminates, nauseous with relief. He’s sweating. He gets into the shower, cleans and scrubs, his legs weak and his cock hard. The enema always makes him soften but as soon as it’s done, as soon as he’s like this— clean, _perfect_, then he gets hard again. Ready for use.

He dries himself off and checks the clock. He has time. The dildo gets put on the wall and a vibrating cock ring gets put on, snug and uncomfortably small.

‘_There you go. Get on it_,’ a dark voice says and he bobs his head in agreement, spreads his legs and sucks on his arm in anticipation. That first kiss of cock against his hole. He moans, endorphins flood him. Relief. He presses back onto the dildo. Almost instantly he wants to come. The ring stops him. He’s got a number. 1000. Fuck his ass 1000 times on the dildo and then he can come.

They don’t all have to be deep. He knows that. It doesn’t matter, though. He never makes it past three hundred. He _always_ comes too soon. Always. At fifty, he’s got to take a break, passage rippling, his balls full and flushed with pent up seed. Now that he’s (totally inappropriately and all consumingly) fixated on this idea of Bucky as his master, he’ll come even faster than he used to.

At a hundred, he has to turn the vibrator off. He’s shaking. He just can’t do it. It’s been a long week. It’s just so _difficult_. He wishes his master would hold him. Help him…. He looks around his closet for a spare towel and realizes he doesn’t have it. He used it to lay down for the enema.

He wants to hold onto something while he comes. That’s all. He hauls down a sweater off the hanger, snapping the cheap plastic in two because he won’t come off the cock in his ass. Not for anything. It belongs inside him. He bunches it up and presses his face into it, feels it in his arms.

His breath makes it warm, the tears of frustration make it damp. He rubs his cheek there. ‘_You’re not quitting on me?_’ the voice asks, fond.

Challenging.

He wants to say… yes? _‘Yes, I am quitting, help me, help me._’ The tears come faster. He doesn’t like that. “No,” he says, aloud. Voice firm. “I won’t quit. I can do anything you want me to. Anything at all if you— _fuck_. Fuck,” he gasps, and he comes, grinds back onto the dildo and stays like that, ass up, cock dripping onto the floor, fucking back on it over and over again until his balls are empty, prodding it into his prostate which always makes a bigger mess. 

He failed. Didn’t get close to a thousand. He quit. He said he wouldn’t and he did. God, he’s pathetic, he thinks before pulling off the dildo. He turns on all fours to the mirror, looks back at his hole, a pretty pink color and open.

If he had a master, he’d send him a picture, that’s how good his hole looks right now. Sparkling clean is the dildo. He succeeded in that at least.

He takes another quick shower, cleans his toy while he’s at it, and throws on his clothes. He’s just about to buckle his pants when he decides to look at his hole one more time. It’s barely open at all, the soreness already gone. He puts a dab of anal bleach back there.

Not that anyone will ever appreciate it, but he looks better than half the porn stars he sees, thank you very much. He’s so fair, the rest of him gets pink so easily, and his hole should always match. Shell pink. Or dark pink from hard use. Perfect. He goes to work. Feels secure and confident, at least on the outside. That failure of coming too soon, lurks in the shadows, but the rest is good. Success.

He is. He can be.

****

He and Sharon go to the appointment together. She gets more coffee. Bucky is on-time and shows another client out. They look like they’ve been crying. All these sorry bastards pay all this money to come here and cry. What’s the fucking point?

“So, let’s get right into it. Thank you both for coming back. The hardest part is actually coming back. But, this is difficult and I wasn’t particularly happy with how I conducted things before, so we’ll consider this a do-over of sorts, if we can,” he says, and he looks at Steve.

An olive branch to start over. Bucky’s not wearing a sweater today. He’s got a light blue, button up shirt on that looks expensive and dry-cleaned. It brings out the color of his eyes. The metal arm looks good against it, too. What happened? How far up does it go? How flexible is it?

His hair is styled back, but he runs his hands through it and a piece of his hair falls right back onto his forehead. He imagines looking into those eyes while he’s fucking himself on his dildo. Bluer than he’d thought.

Jesus.

Some functioning part of Steve’s brain realizes the metal dildo he’d ordered should arrive today, so he’ll have to get home to grab his package before Sharon gets there. God. He ordered it right after coming here, didn’t he? Was it before? Maybe?

He knows exactly when it was and he blushes. He nods in agreement because Bucky is still staring at him while Steve panics on the inside. The dildo is weighted. Steve shivers at the idea of it and risks a glance back up at Bucky. Bucky is staring at him. Steve drops his gaze, blushes. His ass clenches. Wet and still a little sore. Yeah, he’s definitely going to be able to fuck Sharon tonight. No matter what happens here.

Bucky said something. Steve doesn’t know what, but Sharon answers and he tries to figure out what the question must have been. “I knew who he was before. Not just because he was Captain America, but because he was Steve Rogers and my aunt spoke of him so highly. I grew up on stories of him and the daring things he did, how heroic he was. And then, you know, they found him, and here he is, this Adonis of a man and yet he’s sensitive. He’s smart and caring. Of course, I volunteered to be close to him. And, if I knew now how it would affect our relationship, well, I wouldn’t have taken that job. I’d have met him differently. But, I did. I _can’t_ go back,” she says, and her voice breaks.

Steve doesn’t want her to cry. He presses further into the couch, uncertain what to do. Bucky waits for him to say something, do something. “I don’t care that I was your job. And, if I did, I’m over it. It’s okay, Sharon.”

“That’s a lie,” she says, angry. He doesn’t know what to do. “I feel like there are so many lies. And I think he likes them.”

What is he supposed to say to _that_?

She sobs harder.

“Steve, can you move closer? Give her a hug or something? A lot of timeswe need physical reinforcement in addition to words. It’s almost like our minds and bodies won’t believe it, if we can’t feel it, too.”

Steve blushes, and scoots closer, reaches for her. Tentative and afraid of rejection. Hugging doesn’t come naturally. Being the one to reach out, initiate contact. Why can’t she just reach for him if that’s what she wants? He touches her arm carefully and she hunches in on herself. How does he….?

He can’t _fail_ at giving her a _hug_. He can’t be so useless that he freezes and doesn’t know how to comfort her. It’s not fucking rocket science, it’s a crying woman. One he cares about deeply. He looks to Bucky for help.

Bucky gets up, comes closer, goes down in front of Sharon. It doesn’t seem weak. He seems utterly in control. How? “Sharon, do you want him to comfort you?”

“Of course,” she gasps.

Steve waits for Bucky. Helpless. He’d literally pay any amount of money to get out of here or know what to do. “Give her a hug like you wish someone would hug you when you’re sad. Nothing horrible will happen if you reach for her. She won’t reject you. I swear,” he says, smiling. He inclines his head, urging Steve to go on and do it. Somehow conveying that they’re in this together.

“I don’t know how,” he says, and he might be sick. His hand goes to his stomach, keeping the vomit in by sheer will alone.

“Can I show you? Sharon, can I hug you and he can see?”

Her hair shifts as she nods, her face covered. Bucky gets up, makes a _sound_, pulls her to her feet and holds her against his chest, arms around her, holding her so _tight_, his head pressing into her hair and she loses it. Won’t stop crying. “It’s fine. It’s okay. You’ll be alright. He wants to, Sharon. He just doesn’t know how. I promise,” he says, and it’s almost like he’s swaying with her in his arms.

It’s not fair, is all Steve can think. That Bucky knows how to do this and he doesn’t. That Sharon is the one who gets it and he’s sitting here watching because he’s fucked it all up. Bucky lifts his head, looks to Steve even as he continues to hold her. She might stay there all day. He could charge rent.

“If you’ve never seen it, never _felt_ it, never come from a family where hugging and affection was a right and was _easy,_ then it’s impossible. You aren’t the only person who feels like they have no idea what to do in this situation. The good news is that this is definitely something you can learn. Steve, get up.”

Steve stands. Waits. He’s blushing. He makes eye contact, but it’s a lot and he drops his gaze, wishes he was smaller. He turns his head slightly so he can see Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky’s brows draw together as he looks Steve up and down, studying him for a long moment. “She won’t reject you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” he says, but he isn’t sure he believes it.

“Stand like _he_ would. You should approach this from a position of strength. When it comes time to hug her, or anyone, you are the Captain America we all see on tv. It sounds dumb, but you call it up, assume the stance, inhabit that persona. You _have _what she needs emotionally. You can survive the storm of her emotions,” he says, and somehow it doesn’t sound stupid. Steve can’t even roll his eyes. Bucky is waiting.

It’s difficult. It isn’t real. And, what about his emotions? How is Steve supposed to survive his own fucking emotions?

“Come on, Steve. Try,” he says, gently. He’s smiling at Steve as if this isn’t a big deal. Something trivial because Steve can do anything. It reminds him of being nine years old and not wanting another injection and his mother gently telling him that he could do it. She knew he could. He’d take the injection and he wouldn’t even cry because he always gets back up, just like her.

He gets back up. “Okay.” Steve adjusts his posture. His hand comes up like he’s holding the Shield. He drops his arm. What an idiot. Bucky grins at him, like he’s proud. “Good. Take her from me. Pull her into your arms and hold her tight.”

As soon as he touches her arm, she turns into him, clings and weeps. He doesn’t know what to do now. Bucky holds up his hands. “Can I?”

Steve nods. He has no idea what Bucky wants to do. Steve’s mouth is filling with bile. This isn’t right. Bucky takes Steve’s arm and puts it around Sharon in a different place, urges his fingers to clench on her waist. Steve puts his other arm around her back. It isn’t right but he doesn’t know what to do. She pulls back, wipes her eyes and her nose.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, pulling away from him, and goes to the bathroom, leaving them there.

“I fucked it up,” Steve says, wanting to cry. He hadn’t had time to get it right.

“No. You did great. It’s a lot, and she just needs a minute to put her armor back on. That’s okay. I don’t get the impression she relishes being vulnerable. We all need breaks. I mean, no one wants to be Captain America all the time,” Bucky says, and Steve nods. Bucky is giving him permission or something. He doesn’t know for what. He’ll have to think about it later.

“I don’t even… I don’t know how to hug her,” he says, voice breaking. 

“You didn’t know your father growing up, right?”

“No, he died in the war.”

“Brothers? Stepfather? Cousins?”

He shakes his head.

“Then why would you know? Affection can seem like an alien language if you’ve not experienced a lot of it. We’re very touchy feely now. Do you find it uncomfortable?”

“I just… I don’t know why it always has to be me,” he says, the last word not even having sound.

Bucky sort of chuckles. It isn’t mean. “Yeah, right? Why can’t you get the big hug? I think you _should_ have a big hug, if for no other reason so that you know what you’re doing.”

“No, I um….” He thinks Bucky is offering to hug him. He wants it too much to say yes. He wants it too much to say no. He can’t do anything. He stares hard to the right of Bucky, his breathing uneven, almost hitched. His hand goes back to his stomach.

“Well,” Bucky says, after a long moment, “if you change your mind, it really isn’t a big deal,” Bucky moves, a step back, giving Steve space, letting it go.

Steve grabs his arm. Let’s go as quick as he can. He hadn’t meant for it to be no. He just hadn’t been able to say yes. He wants that hug more than he’s ever wanted anything. “Not no. Just….” That’s all he’s got. He blinks back tears as he looks at Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s difficult. I swear, I do,” Bucky says, telegraphing his movements. He’s close, the distance is gone and then his chest is against Steve’s, his arms are around him and he keeps talking, reassuring him like Steve is a madman on the ledge or something.

“My family is Italian and Irish, so affection was the other way around growing up. Too much and it’s oppressive. Hell, it can actually be a problem if you’re too friendly. I lost a tooth my first week of basic.”

“I think you’re lying,” Steve says, chuckling. He gives in, doesn’t even know why the hell he’s standing so stiffly, anyway, and lets his body relax. He puts his arms around Bucky’s waist. God. How do people have this all the time? No one told him touch could make you feel weak and desperate. It’s so good that it’s awful.

“Well, Sally Hayes’ mother smacked me upside the head for being overly affectionate with her daughter in the ninth grade. That’s definitely a fact. You’re doing really well, Steve. I know it’s silly and awkward, but it’s emotional too, right? Even if we don’t want it to be or think it should be, there are things our bodies know and react to, that we don’t necessarily want it to.”

Steve’s shoulders rise and lower, his breaths too shallow. Bucky’s hand on his back presses further into him, urging him to relax. To give in even more. Where does it stop? Who says when he’s given in enough? Will one of them know?

“Can I show you what I was doing? Hand in the hair?”

He nods. Bucky’s hand slides up, fingers into his hair, pushing against his scalp. It’s heaven. He wishes it was tighter. “Good, Steve. And you tilt your head, put your cheek on her scalp. Protection. That bit of weight coming down on top of her because you’re that big. Feel the difference?” Bucky asks, doing it, pressing his cheek against Steve’s head.

He wants to moan or collapse. He wants to touch him back. He needs to. The shelter of Bucky’s arms is safe. It’s home unlike anything he’s ever experienced and he wants to give something back to Bucky, wants him to know just how grateful he is.

Steve takes a shaky breath. “Can I touch your back?” he asks, and he doesn’t even sound like himself.

“Of course,” Bucky says, easily. Steve’s hands slide up his back and then down, feeling the strength of Bucky’s shoulders, how muscular he is under the shirt. He encounters the seam of metal at his shoulder and instead of scaring him it just makes him want to give Bucky more.

Does Bucky understand that it doesn’t matter? That he’s still so fucking beautiful? He’s warm under Steve’s hands. He smells so good. Steve clutches at his back, turns his face into Bucky’s neck, makes a sound as his nose grazes Bucky’s neck. Permission. Yes, Steve thinks. Just, yes. Anything Bucky wants of him, he’ll give it gladly.

_This_ is what it’s all for. He’s more than a soldier, can do more than hurt someone. If Bucky wants him, wants his body to use in anyway, he’ll—

Bucky pulls back from him, cheeks flushed, not making eye contact for a moment. He very firmly grips Steve’s arms, keeping him still while Bucky puts distance between them. 

“Have a seat.” Bucky lets him go and Steve collapses to the couch, looks up at Bucky. Realizes how hard he is. How desperate. What if he said yes aloud? What if he touched him weirdly? Wrongly? Steve isn’t even sure what he did or how much time passed. Long enough to smell him and get hard. Where the hell is Sharon? Is Bucky going to tell her? What did he _do_?

“Fuck,” Steve whispers, and puts his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky says, again, and his hand settles on Steve’s head like a benediction.

“It isn’t. I did that wrong.”

“Look at me,” Bucky orders. Steve does. No hesitation. Bucky blinks in surprise at how quickly Steve obeyed him. That wasn’t right, either. He fucked up again and once again he doesn’t quite understand how he should have done it. “You didn’t do _anything_ wrong. Not for me,” Bucky says.

Steve believes him. Maybe he’s an idiot for doing so, but in that moment he does.

“Give yourself a second to calm down and then go after her. You know how to hold her, you know what she needs to hear. That you forgive her for that deception. But, if you can’t forgive her, that’s okay, too. We can talk about it. Then you just hold her and you tell her you want to be with her and it will all work out.”

Steve rubs his hands over his face. “Someone divorced you?” he asks, in disbelief. Who is this guy?

Bucky laughs. “No one’s perfect.”

Steve doesn’t look at him. Not again. He’s too hard to get up and go get Sharon. If Bucky understands why he’s still sitting there (he thinks he does, but he isn’t quite sure if that was discussed. It was oblique, deniable) he doesn’t say.

A few minutes pass. Bucky shuffles a few papers on his desk. Steve’s hard-on isn’t going away. His skin hurts, aching for Bucky’s touch and warmth.

Sharon comes back in. She smiles. “Sorry. I hate being upset in front of people. I just needed to get away for a second.”

“That’s understandable,” Bucky says. 

“Do you feel the same way, Steve?” Bucky asks, coming back towards them.

He has to think about it. “I don’t usually get that upset. To leave, I mean.”

“Why not?”

“Grief and disappointment is just… weight. You just carry it. It doesn’t usually… I don’t know.”

Sharon looks at him like he’s an idiot. “You do get upset, Steve. You just try to self-medicate with adrenaline or violence. Ideally, both.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks.

She picks at her skirt. “He likes to take risks. There’s a certain anticipation around him when things are more dangerous, if the odds are worse. Not for other people, but himself. He puts no value on his own life. I think he likes… the violence, maybe the hurt, I don’t know.”

“No, I’ve been in a lot of pain most of my life and I didn’t fucking like it. No one wants to be as sick as I was. And, yeah, I _get_ hurt a lot now, but that doesn’t mean I _like_ it,” Steve says, defensively. They can’t know how much he likes some pain. No one can. He’s wrong.

“Was there a lot of violence in your home life?” Bucky asks.

“Really? My _childhood_?” Steve says, all snark and disdain. How does he get the conversation to move away from this?

“Yeah. Your childhood. Every part of our personalities is formed in childhood.”

“My ma never raised a hand to me,” he says, firmly.

“How were you punished?”

“She was just disappointed. Expected better.” He shrugs. His ma had kind of thought their lives were hard enough without her piling it on with more hurt. And, she was always tired. Discipline took energy. Caring took energy. Love requires energy.

She loved him. But, she was always very tired.

“How about… did you know when you’d done well? Made her happy?”

“Of course,” he says, instantly.

Bucky raises a brow. Lets it go. “Was there any violence in your childhood?”

“You already know, why are you asking?” Steve says. Defensive, put on the spot, still hard. His skin still tingles from touching Bucky. Some animal part of him doesn’t understand why he isn’t all over Bucky right now. He _needs_ him. Anger is building inside of him, mixed in with hurt at being put aside, set back. Pushed away. Steve wanted him. Wants. He fucking _wants_ him. He’ll do anything. But, Bucky doesn’t want him. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. “Everyone knows every detail, don’t bullshit like you don’t.”

He has no idea what the expression is on Bucky’s face. Bucky looks down at Steve’s lap. As if he can see that Steve is still hard. Can he? “Steve, I’m trying to give you the courtesy of telling me yourself and not assuming things about you based upon second or third hand information.”

He should say thank you. It’s considerate to not assume it’s all true. But. Bucky pushed him away. Of course he did. Steve processes the question, wraps the hurt up and puts it to the side for later. “I got picked on. Bullied. And, I was pretty hot tempered. Give me a chance to start or join a fight and I was in it. And, I had no business being in it,” he says.

“Sharon, what about you?”

“I had a step dad who hit me once. But, my aunt found out about it and it never happened again.”

“What do you mean?”

“She beat the shit out of him. She was a big believer that women should be treated with respect and if they weren’t, then they needed to change that.”

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Steve says, fondly. Happy to latch onto any vaguely bright spot.

Sharon gives him an unreadable look.

“So, we’re almost out of time, but it might be good if you both thought about, maybe talked about how you got together and if there are things you could do or would want in order to move beyond those early days. Steve, you say it isn’t a big deal, but I’m not sure you’re being as honest with yourself about that as you need to be. And, if you want homework, _hug_. Lots of different kinds of hugs, too. If you watch tv, snuggle up next to each other. When you leave in the morning, hug. Sharon, hug him like you want to be hugged. Big, strong guys don’t necessarily always need to be the ones giving the big, strong hugs.” Bucky winks at her.

Sharon blushes. Steve feels an odd sense of betrayal. As if Bucky means something by that. Like they’re conspiring against him.

They leave his office, pause outside to button their coats. “Can you believe he’s divorced?” Sharon asks.

“That’s exactly what I thought!”

“Great minds think alike,” she says, bumping his arm.

“Do great minds like BLTA’s before returning to work?”

“They do,” she says.

The cold helps with the erection. Being outside and away from Bucky helps too. Everything is going to be fine.

**

They hug, _a lot_. Sharon seems happier, which is good, but Steve feels oppressed. The truth is that it’s a constant struggle to relax. To remember that he doesn’t need to be all clenched up, and that he’s supposed to be enjoying the contact. It’s god damned exhausting.

And, every single time, it instantly makes him think of Bucky. Of Bucky’s hug. Of the way he held Steve and the tone of his voice, how his body felt under Steve’s hands. He still isn’t sure if he said ‘yes’ and is a little relieved he’ll likely never know. Steve doesn’t think he could go back if he did.

And, god, he wants to go back and see Bucky. Which is fucked up and definitely not the point. But, all of his fantasies now involve Bucky and he feels like he’s always half-hard or at a constant simmer the moment he has any time to himself.

Even the fantasies that were just a voice now seem to be more intense, more solid because his face is in it, his touch. Nothing is distant or disembodied. He can imagine the heat, the strength of him. How their bodies would line up if Bucky were fucking him.

He might… he might call Steve his sweetheart. His stomach flips, that butterfly feeling just there, inside him and he puts his arm around himself like he can keep it for awhile.

When Steve shaves and trims and does his rather rigorous manscaping routine, he has this vague idea that he’s doing it for Bucky. His master would appreciate it, it’s an act of devotion, making this body the pinnacle of what it can be, for _him_.

Sharon doesn’t like all the grooming. He’d given up shaving his face on the weekends because Sharon said he made her feel like she needed to do more.

As if he cares whether or not she waxes. He’d tried to tell her that it just didn’t matter to him, but she’d taken it wrong. He likely said it wrong, too. He always wants her the same amount, no matter what she wears or how she takes care of herself. She’d muttered something about him not getting it up.

He lets her take him shopping. Finally gets rid of the clothes she hated and spends a horrendous amount of money to look more ‘modern.’ She’d gotten rid of his ‘old man boxers’ when they’d first gotten together, gotten him the boxer briefs, and now he realizes how much they cost. 

They do look good. Does Bucky wear boxer briefs? Steve wonders how big he is when he’s hard. He thinks about that a lot.

At first, she’s pleased with all the progress. The clothes and the hugs. But, it’s only a few days later that she seems skeptical again. It’s like the grace period is over. New lingerie appears. She gets a Brazilian. He tries to sound happy, but not _too_ happy about it?

While he doesn’t care, he is intimately aware of how incredibly painful it is to get waxed in certain areas, and so he tries to give her even more attention with his hands and mouth. She just wants his dick. The Brazilian makes her want it more, she whispers, the night of the new negligee. She feels _exposed, _things are _sensitive._

It’s only by the grace of god that he doesn’t snap back,_ Yeah, I know_. He goes in every three and a half weeks, like clockwork. Tries to time it to when she’ll be out so he can fuck the hell out of himself and really take advantage of how good his skin feels afterwards, flushed and still smarting. When he gets home from the waxing he can’t keep his hands off of himself.

He’s surprised when she comes home on Friday night, after having gone out for drinks with some friends, to find her pulling back the sheet and putting her mouth on him.

He’d been dozing, utterly fucked out from his night of having the place alone and putting himself through his paces. His nipples are warm and throbbing still, his hole is _puffy_. It looks obscene. It makes him feel like he’s filthy. Like his master made a whore of him, using him so hard.

Which is exactly what he’d been fantasizing about. But, there is no way he’s going to get it up now. He hauls her up and puts her on her back, lifting her clear off the bed. Her legs spread wantonly as he lays her down.

“I love that,” she says. He grins at her, hiding his panic. He kisses down her body, fingers already slipping into her.

“You feel so good,” he says, breathy and intent as he hunts for her g-spot while his thumb slides along the side of her clit, just as she likes. There’s a goal, a distraction, if he can get her there fast enough, he’ll be saved the misery of another failed erection.

“Want you in me,” she moans. Slurs. _Drunk._

He pulls back. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he says, and gets out of bed to wash his hands.

“What? No, I haven’t. I had… it actually doesn’t matter how much I’ve had because you’re my boyfriend. You’re my live-in booty call,” she says. “Do I need to walk a straight line before I can get laid? This is crap. People must have had sex back in the day, there was alcohol.”

“It makes me uncomfortable.” 

“You’re such a prude.”

“I can live with that,” he says, and disappears into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may have mentioned this somewhere else, but Steve as touch starved isn't just a fandom creation. in the early 1900's until the 60's it was being pushed that children became weak with too much affection and that if mothers coddled their children they'd give them germs and diseases. sick children were isolated and parents told to not touch them and lots of children died because they do not do well without touch. there's a really amazing podcast on this american life that talks about it https://www.thisamericanlife.org/317/unconditional-love
> 
> it's definitely going to impact a few of my upcoming stucky stories and if you're say, stuck at home with nothing to do for a bit, is totally worth a listen. And, it's basically where this whole hug thing came from so if this isn't working for you or seems super bizarre (I mean, I hope not, but I spent a lot of time on a hug and sort of fetishized it so that's a little unusual) then this is where I was coming from.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter inserted into the story on 4/13

He’s nauseous with how much he doesn’t want to be sitting in Bucky’s waiting room, on his own, for this appointment. The door opens, a woman comes out and she isn’t crying but it’s clear she _was_.

“Hey, Steve. How are you?” Bucky asks, warmly. And Steve is blushing at just that. He’s imagining getting that hug again, getting to feel close to him. Maybe Bucky sees it on his face, or maybe Steve is delusional, but Bucky seems to look at Steve’s mouth for a moment and then asks, “Is Sharon running late?”

“Uh, no. She’s on a mission. Out of town. It’s just me today.”

Bucky raises a brow, crosses his arms and leans against the door. “Well, I’ve gotta say I’m pretty impressed. I’d have thought you’d jump at the opportunity to skip a week,” he says. Somehow, and Steve doesn’t know how he does it, it’s friendly enough that Steve doesn’t get pissed and he doesn’t feel like a dick.

“It’s not my choice.”

“Ah. Well, that’s a shame for the both of us then. How about we get some tea? Kill a few minutes,” he says. Bucky hesitates. “You know, there’s a good coffee shop down the street. Would you want to go there? My treat.”

“You want to buy me coffee?” Steve asks, and he sounds stupid. Like some geek girl who just got asked out by the captain of the football team or something. He wants to look around in case Bucky was talking to someone else.

Bucky laughs softly. “Not like that. I mean, so it’s a different environment.” Steve is mortified at his misunderstanding. He puts his head in his hands, wants to disappear.

“I know. Of course,” Steve says, mumbling around his palms. “I didn’t think— well, I don’t know if I thought, but I understand what you meant.” 

“I was unclear,” he says, as if he’s trying to help Steve.

Steve looks at him pleadingly. “Please, pretend that just never happened.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “Right. No. Well, _yeah_. I mean, you don’t want to be here. I don’t really want to have you glaring at me for an hour and miserable. You can be quite imposing, you know.”

Steve manages a one sided smile, a quirk of his mouth. “Sometimes,” he says. He’s not imposing now. He’s a mess. “This is so bizarre. People treat me this way. I will never dismiss a teenage girl again.” Which is even worse, because that’s just as bad as saying he’s got a crush on Bucky! He can feel the color draining from his face.

“Let’s go. Elsewhere. You don’t want to be stuck in my office. We can chat. It doesn’t have to be all misery all the time to come see your therapist. Hell, I would like to think if we’d met under other circumstances, we’d have been friends….” Bucky stops talking, Steve can see on his face that he’s decided that was the wrong thing to say. Too familiar. “Well, maybe acquaintances. But, you wouldn’t resent being in my presence, and I wouldn’t feel like I’m torturing you in a bad way.”

“Is there a good way to be tortured?” Steve asks, Bucky’s slip up making him feel a little better.

“Sorry. Bad joke,” Bucky says, quietly.

Steve drops his head, looks down at the ground for a moment because he’s sure he’s been _seen_. From whatever happened last week, or maybe it radiates off of him that he likes to hurt and fantasizes about this man making him say please. _Please _and _don’t_. Or _yes _and _it hurts_.

“Steve,” he says, sounding serious. “Maybe it would be best—”

“No. No, I… let’s just skip all that. It’s fine,” he says, making eye contact. Forcing a big smile. He doesn’t want to be sent away. It was hard to come here. And, he’s also been counting down the hours to when he got to come here again. The last thing he wants is for Bucky to just end the appointment because Steve is so unpleasantly obsessed that it’s making everything strained and awkward.

“Friends, you say. Big Captain America fan, after all, huh?” Steve asks, and kind of gets his shit together again. Enough to make eye contact.

“Well, I grew up in Brooklyn,” he says, and _his_ cheeks get pink for a change. Steve is glad he’s still sitting. He might fall back down, the man is so gorgeous. Blushing. Because of Steve.

It turns out Bucky grew up down the street from where Steve lived with his ma. “It’s gone now,” Steve says, shrugging. He’s still looking at Bucky and for some reason, even though it was a long time ago, it gets to him. He looks away and blinks quickly. It’s one thing for it to be his mother but it’s not just that, it’s the building. Their old home. “I heard it burned in the 50’s. The um… landlord wanted to develop it.”

“Arson, yeah. Three blocks went up. It was a miracle getting the fire out before it swarmed the city. My mother saw it all go up,” Bucky says. Right. Because he is older than Bucky’s mother.

“Yeah, miracle.”

“You don’t believe in miracles?”

“I am a miracle,” Steve says, bitterly. He means to say it joking. Like he should grin big and spread his arms when he says it, be self deprecating. But, he missed his window. “Coffee,” Steve says, pushing to his feet. 

Bucky grabs his coat and they leave his office. He pulls gloves onto his hands, nice leather, very expensive if Steve had to guess. He wants to touch them, they look so soft. “At the risk of getting my face punched in, you know it’s okay that it’s horrible, right? Coming back to all the change and losing everyone. Even a girl, I hear,” Bucky says.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, staring at the ground. “I’m not sure if I would have tried to make it work with her. I don’t think I would have. She wouldn’t have put up with my… well, with me.” Peggy had been so damned tough and relentless that the idea of not getting it up for her is maybe the worst thing he could imagine. “I think getting out of that was a relief. Maybe for both of us.”

“There is no way she was happy you two didn’t get your shot,” Bucky says, gently.

“She was so beautiful. So strong. She looked at me and she saw what I could be. There was a good chance I was going to die in that experiment and she basically told me if you want something you go for it, hang the consequences.”

“That’s kind of funny, you know. Beautiful, strong, inspiring. That’s _you. _You and your… myth. The transformation of you.”

“I am not those things.”

“Not even strong?” Bucky asks him.

“You’re smarter than that. Sure, I’m physically strong. That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Steve says, shivering against the cold.

“Shit, it’s cold. Just when I think I don’t want to be in the office and I just want to be outside,” Bucky says, giving him a grin. “Fortunately, I have good company.”

“I’m paying you for flattery too, huh?” Steve asks, and because he’s fucked up, he’s been hard this whole time. And now he’s damp in his underwear from that look alone. 

“Don’t undercut every nice thing someone says about you. You have to say thank you sometimes.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve says.

“Then I’ll keep complimenting you and you’ll get more and more annoyed and eventually you’ll say thank you, just to get me to stop.” Bucky opens the door to the coffee shop and they go inside. He wishes he could laughingly say that he’d like to see Bucky try. That Steve can then get all the compliments and it could be a jokey thing between them. _Don’t you look handsome today, aren’t you clever, you always try your best_. Bucky could say them in a slightly over dramatic way, just a little thing,between the two of them.

And Steve would hoard every single one and they could become a part of him.

Ridiculous.

He crosses his arms and looks at Bucky. Bucky who is watching him like he can read his mind. “What do you usually get?” Steve asks, because he’s curious and he wants to change the subject.

“Cappuccino. Takes away the bitterness, isn’t too sweet. Kind of like you, isn’t it?” he says, with a smirk.

“Bitter and not too sweet?”

“Well, I’m ordering it, so it has to be good.”

“Thank you,” he says, sarcastically and Bucky laughs.

“That didn’t go well, did it? It just sounded like I was hitting on you. Sorry,” he says, like it isn’t a big deal. Bucky orders his drink and Steve says he’ll have the same thing. Steve goes to find a seat. It’s not too crowded which is good. He finds a table slightly out of the way. Bucky picks up a plate with two pastries on it, cuts them in half and brings it to the table. He goes back up, picks up their drink and returns. “Voila,” he says, setting it in front of Steve.

Steve can smell his cologne. Bucky is so tall. He looks up at him, imagines being on his knees and this is exactly what it would be like. The height. He licks his lips, looks down Bucky’s body. God, he wishes Bucky was hard for him. He wishes Bucky would say “Take care of that, would you?” And Steve would get a mouth full of come in the bathroom because that’s what Bucky wanted in the moment. He drags his gaze away, and looks at his drink for a long moment. Bucky sits down, weirdly quiet.

“The hug, last week,” Steve says, voice rough. He stares at the foam leaf in his drink, “If I said… anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. It was an accident.”

“I wish you wouldn’t apologize, but I accept it and let’s move on.”

“This isn’t like that. This isn’t me not accepting a compliment or having self-esteem issues. I don’t know if I said anything stupid, or even… but if I did, I’m sorry.” He might have done worse. He thinks he kissed Bucky’s neck. He’s positive his lips were on Bucky’s skin.

Bucky leans forward, raps his knuckles once on the table so Steve looks up and meets his gaze. “You didn’t do anything stupid. You have nothing to apologize for. The truth is that I don’t know how you get out of bed every fucking day. If I were you, I don’t know if I could. And, this isn’t the right thing to say, but I’d probably have at least considered eating my own gun. The world expects everything of you. Literally _you_. You are meant to smile and perform and be grateful. If everyone I knew was gone, and everything I knew was different and someone told me to cheer up and be grateful I’d lose my fucking mind. You hugged me. You’re touch starved. So fucking what? Who isn’t? Honestly, there really isn’t much of anything you could do that would make me think you should apologize to me.”

“Then I guess I didn’t say anything aloud,” Steve says, because it’s that or cry.

“Fuck. _Really? _You said yes. I heard it, you said it, and I know exactly what you meant by it and I don’t fucking care. Happy?”

He laughs. Because, no he is not happy. “Touch starved. Is that a word?”

“God yes. Especially for men. And, for you, who’s expected to always get up and be a symbol of strength for children and adults, an icon? Jesus, yeah, you need affection like a drowning man needs a boat.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Steve whispers.

“I just think you need a break from all the expectations and we have to find a way to get you what you need. Figure out what you want.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want anything.” Which is a lie. He wants Bucky more than anything in the world. He wants Bucky to decide he needs hugs and compliments and fucking. Bucky’s gaze is so damned heavy. Steve can’t look at him. He shakes his head just a little. He can’t. Sorry.

Bucky sighs. His hand is on the table between them and he reaches out, touches his fingers to Steve’s hand where it’s clenched on the mug.

“It’s okay. You’re good, Steve,” he says. He takes his hand away. Steve stares at that spot. The top of his thumb and index finger. It tingles. It should show or something. Make his skin pink or red or even purple. He wants to lick it, suck the hint of Bucky’s touch off of his hand.

“I guess my question is… if the whole world is a no, that you don’t want anything, and then something makes you say yes, why wouldn’t you go for it?” Bucky asks him, quietly.

Is Bucky telling Steve to hit on him? “I have a girlfriend,” Steve says, slowly.

“That isn’t what I mean,” Bucky says, looking at him and away. “I didn’t think you meant yes to me specifically, you meant yes— well, at least this is what I assumed— you meant yes as in submission or giving in. Dropping your burdens for a little while.”

“Submission is… I think I don’t know what you mean?” Steve says, and drinks a big sip of his drink. First of all, it’s good. Second of all, it’s fucking hot. Steve knows of dominance and submission. He knows of sadism and masochism and BDSM as things he’s read about and jerked off to. Those are his fantasies and always have been. And now he fantasizes about calling this man master, wants to be taken and held by him and… did he say that the other day? Did he call Bucky master or something and that’s why they’re having this conversation? “What did I _say_? What did I _do_?” Steve asks, desperately. He doesn’t even want the fucking answer. He should go. He’s never been so embarrassed and horrified in his life.

“_Stop_. No. Fuck. It’s not that you did anything or said anything and this isn’t meant to… just.” Bucky scrubs his hand over his hair, mussing it up and then smooths it again. “Give me a second,” he says. “This isn’t going how I… I’m not saying it right.” Bucky takes a bite of almond croissant and dusts his hands absently. He gets up to get napkins and Steve knows he’s thinking, but he seems just as calm as he usually does. He sits back down, eats another bite, has a sip of his drink. “Wow. That’s hot.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, because he’s the king of witty repartee.

“I appreciate you being patient with me and giving me a minute… shit. I’ve still got nothing so I’m going to blunder on into this and at least you won’t have to worry about doing something wrong because I’ll be doing it.”

“That sounds pretty good so far,” Steve says.

Bucky gives him a weak smile. “Look, I’m not trying to weird you out and I will never bring it up with Sharon. Hell, I’ll never bring it up again with you, either, if that’s what you want, but people like things in the bedroom and in their personal life that don’t necessarily have a lot to do with how they live their life normally. People fantasize about weird things and I have heard it all and probably done it all. Everyone expects things of you, everyone wants you to perform for them and that doesn’t seem like what you want.”

“What do I want?” Steve whispers.

“You want to… relax. Be taken care of for a change. Sometimes you meet someone and you know. It’s electric. It’s not even the surface them, it’s something in their body language that resonates.”

“You’re saying you met me and I seemed weak?”

“No. The total opposite. I saw someone incredibly strong who needs to be told that they’re doing too much for everyone else. You’re allowed to want things for yourself. Do you know that?”

“I don’t get to put the shield or the persona down. There isn’t anything to me besides that.”

“That isn’t true. Fuck Captain America. I mean, _you_. You’re… Atlas. You’ve got the whole world on your shoulders and maybe you could find a pillar to help prop up a bit of the weight.”

“You’ve done submission?” Steve asks, half-hoping he’s going to trap Bucky somehow and shut this down and half-hoping…. well. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s hoping for.

“I’ve done kinky things and BDSM things and vanilla things and you name it.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Steve asks.

“Well, I was married for a hot minute and that was bad news. But, that’s a boring answer. I’m not trying to get personal with my own life, I want you to know that if you have questions about anything that I will give you any information I can, and you won’t shock me or gross me out. People are complex creatures and I won’t define you by what you like in the bedroom.”

“Will you write it down in your notes?” Steve demands.

Bucky pauses, mug half lifted to his mouth. “I don’t have to. If that’s what it takes.”

Steve doesn’t know if that makes a difference. Bucky drinks. The mug clunks back on the table. Steve sighs. “I just want to sit here with you,” Steve confesses. He can’t go further on that line of conversation. But, he doesn’t want to have his time with Bucky be over, either.

“Then let’s do that. I’m pushing. I’m sorry. I have a tendency to think I know everything.”

“Well, everyone has a tendency to think I know everything, so maybe that goes together.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky laughs, relieved.

Everything is suddenly easier. Steve takes a sip of his drink. Not particularly sweet, but not bitter. Okay. It makes him feel a little warm inside because it is a good drink and he thinks he’s going to order it too from now on. It’s not a bad thing to be compared to. He looks around the coffee shop. At the people having conversations and the people behind the counter, finally eyes the pastries.

He’s okay. Steve eats half a danish in three bites and then realizes that Bucky is staring at his mouth. Should he be embarrassed? “Did I eat that weirdly or something?”

Bucky jolts. “What? _No._ Sorry. No.”

Steve shoves to his feet, knocking the table and it spills his drink. Disgust. That’s what he’d seen on Bucky’s face. For him. Steve hates that he eats so much and people always notice. Comment. He hates that people _watch_ him, and that even though he isn’t all that hungry, he still managed to shove food into his face so quickly he grossed out Bucky.

The most beautiful man he’s ever seen and the man he fantasizes about inappropriately. Which he can’t do anymore because the look of disgust on Bucky’s face is what Steve will always see now. Fuck Bucky for taking that away from him. His fantasy.

He’s going to go to the bathroom, get a minute to get himself together. “I have to….”

“Steve. Please. I’m sorry,’ Bucky says, grabbing his arm. He uses the metal hand and it’s strong. Steve pulls and there’s a very quiet whir as the arm compensates.

“Fuck you. Really. Pretending to be my friend, wanting me to open up to you and you’re just like everyone else.” And he pulls hard. Bucky lets him go abruptly and he bumps into the table behind him. It spills drinks and two women are clearly startled. It’s horrible. Steve mumbles an apology, can already feel the bile rising in his throat as he dashes towards the bathroom. He throws up, doesn’t even have time to lock the door, it’s so desperate. And then there are tears. Of course.

“Steve,” Bucky says, horribly gentle.

“Oh god. Please, please leave. _Please_,” he begs, and there’s a peace in that. In just deciding that whatever happens next, isn’t actually up to him. He’s begging and Bucky will decide. He slides to the floor. Bucky locks the door and squats down next to him. He puts the back of his metal hand to Steve’s head and then puts his flesh hand there, too.

“You don’t have a fever.” Did he really just take his temperature? If this wasn’t so awful, he’d ask. “I can’t believe I have to say this to you. I’m so sorry, Steve. I will definitely get you another therapist. You didn’t look bad eating, I wasn’t disgusted with you, I was horrified at myself because I was not… thinking professional thoughts. It wasn’t you. I was mentally cursing at myself.”

“You’re lying,” Steve whispers.

“No, I’m not.”

Steve waits. Bucky touches Steve’s bottom lip with his index finger then drops his hand. “You have a nice mouth,” he says, almost unintelligible. “There’s no way to say that and have it not be wildly inappropriate.”

“What do you mean you like my mouth?” Steve asks.

Bucky winces. “There’s bad and then there’s worse. I’m sorry.”

“You won’t… answer?” Steve asks, softly.

“Stevie, no. I _can’t_. I don’t want to fuck this up even more.” 

Steve puts his hand over his face and tries not to cry.

“I’m sorry. Can we get you up? I think this is the cleanest bathroom in a 2 mile radius, but come on,” he says, with a brittle laugh. He offers his hands and Steve takes them. He has to. And Bucky’s touch is like lightning on his skin, it’s good and Steve makes a sound because he can’t not make a sound.

“I fucking know,” Bucky growls, pressing his forehead to Steve’s hands, and then he pulls them both up and Steve hesitates, small and head turned away, terrified of rejection. “I can’t. We can’t. What else do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“Can I hug you?” Bucky asks, sounding desperate.

“Yes, please,” Steve whispers and he gets jerked into Bucky’s arms, pressed against his chest and he sobs, low and ugly.

“Oh, sweetheart. Let it out. You’re so brave, Steve. So strong, and you don’t have to be all the time.”

“I do,” he says, brokenly.

“Then you need to find someone or something that you can rely on enough so you can be weak with them. You are on the edge, babydoll and you deserve the world,” he says, like it physically pains him.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, clutching him tighter. He sobs like he might never stop and Bucky just holds him. It’s cathartic and embarrassing. He feels utterly drained when he stops. Bucky takes him to the sink, wets a paper towel and presses it to his face.

“Do you feel better, sweetheart?” Steve doesn’t even respond. He keeps his eyes closed. The paper towel feels amazing against his skin. And Bucky is so close, caging him between the wall and the sink. Steve’s resting his weight against the wall but holding onto Bucky’s coat. “Let’s wash your hands and rinse your mouth and then we’ll go. Come on.”

He pulls Steve up, takes his hands and puts them under the water. He gets soap and rubs it into his palms and his fingers. He turns on the tap and washes the soap off. He cups water in his hand and Steve bends down, drinking from the palm of his hand without questioning it. He’ll be mortified later. He’s dazed right now. He’s good right now. He’s so fucking hard, though. So close to coming and soaked with it.

Bucky dries his face, adjusts Steve’s coat. “Damn. I got water on you while I was washing your hands, sorry, I… _oh_,” he says, staring at Steve’s groin, paper towel in hand. He buttons Steve’s coat. Says nothing else.

Steve is hard and wet. So wet he’s leaked through his pants and Bucky knows. Has seen it and is standing in front of him, almost trembling as Steve waits. “I won’t do this,” Bucky says, hollowly. He lifts his hands away from Steve’s coat, holds them in the air like he’s about to be arrested. “Go out now,” he orders.

Steve can’t move. Doesn’t want to. “Be good for me and go. I need you to do this for me.”

“That’s not fair,” he whispers.

“I know.” Steve goes out into the hallway and waits. Bucky gets him water to drink. Steve swallows it down, shivers and stares at nothing.

“I think you should go home now. Let me put you in an uber or something,” Bucky says. They go out of the coffeeshop, Bucky has his phone in his hand. A taxi passes by and Bucky hails it, opens the door for Steve. Steve who feels wrung out and… something. “Steve. Call me if you need me. This was… intense. We can talk it through. If you don’t want to come back, I’ll work it out with Sharon and get you squared away with someone else.”

“If you’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t want to be with you then you’re a really awful therapist.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Fuck. Yeah. At least it’s mutual. You’re good, Steve. I’m proud of you. If… if you get home and you don’t feel right. If you feel really sad or off, call me. Do you know what sub-space is?”

“Yeah,” he says, blinking tears.

“You were amazing. You might be dropping because you went really docile in there. I can’t take you back to my office, sweetheart. I’m sorry. But, you were good. Are good. Okay?”

“Was I… was I a good boy?” He asks, vulnerable and terrified of the answer.

Bucky leans forward, hands on Steve’s face, one cold and hard, and one warm and soft. Steve moans because that’s Bucky. He is both of those things. Steve is more certain of that than he’s ever been of anything. Bucky doesn’t let Steve tilt his head, won’t let him offer his mouth in a kiss. He kisses Steve on the forehead. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were a very good boy.” 

***

The words ‘I’m proud of you’ and ‘you’re good, Steve’ kind of become a litany over the next few days. And every time he thinks of being a very good boy, well. He comes a lot. He has extra underwear in his work bag because he makes a mess all the time. He’ll be sitting at his desk and just zone out, realize he’s aching and wet.

He can hear Bucky’s voice in his head, praising him as he goes on his own mission, as he welcomes Sharon home with a big kiss, picking her up in the entryway and taking her to the bedroom with a low sound in the back of his throat. She’s surprised, pleased, but says she’s on her period and that’s always been a good enough reason for the both of them to let it go.

It’s not that he minds blood. But, it gives this weird idea that he’s hurting her. And, he doesn’t want to bleed. But, he wants to be be hurt intimately. And he’s worn himself out to the point that there may have been a hint of pink when he wiped up later and that was always a weird moment for him. Does he hate himself, does he wish it was worse? What does it mean if he’d let someone else do that to him and it wouldn’t be a bad thing? The first time he was going to fuck her when she was on her period, he just hadn’t been able to get hard at all because he was so fucked up with his own feelings that he couldn’t articulate and deal with.

It’s never come up again. When that time of the month comes around (he has an app so he knows the precise dates) it’s almost like a free pass. He can make it seem like he really wants to but…. When he puts her down and offers to get her a heating pad instead she gives him a look. Could she know that it’s an act? Another lie?

They have another appointment with Bucky coming up so they resume the hugging.

He’s okay with seeing Bucky. He’d gone home, come hard and long with the dildo in his ass. Well, it was worse than that. He’d come home, gotten himself on it, ass up and legs spread, cock dripping and he’d fallen asleep. He’d jerked awake, pulled on the dildo and that had hurt. He’d come. He’d not taken Bucky’s call that night. He’d not responded to the text checking in the next morning.

He’d gone to the office and had meetings, done a public appearance and given a little speech about personal responsibility and felt so much like the persona of who everyone wanted him to be that he could call Bucky back. Bucky answered, almost immediately.

“Steve. Thank you for returning my call,” Bucky says, weirdly formal.

“No problem. Sorry about that. It was a busy evening. I’ve got a break in my schedule for a moment,” he says, wanting a way to end the call abruptly.

“Of course. Look, I barely know what to say about yesterday. I’m so—”

“I don’t want an apology,” he says, firmly. He nods at Jasper as he walks by. “It isn’t a big deal. We’ll see you next week. Honestly, Dr. Barnes, it’s fine,” he says. He winces at calling him Dr. Barnes. He waves desperately to Tony. Tony points at himself. Steve nods, gestures him over. “You know what, I have to let you go now, work. But, everything is fine. I’d like to pretend this never happened.”

“Well, I guess that’s what we’ll do then,” Bucky says, absently.

“Great. Have a good day,” he says, and hangs up the phone. Problem solved. Now he just has to get through to the next appointment.

“Hey! I was just going to get lunch. You want to go?” Tony asks.

Fuck. 


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the weekend is tense and the hugging disappears all together. By the time Monday comes, he’s desperate to see Bucky. He’s early to the appointment, had visions of getting there before Sharon, of Bucky hugging him, like a progress report or something. A test.

He just wants to be pressed up against him for a moment.

That’s not what happens. Sharon shows up and they go in together. There’s no hug, it’s all professional and distant. Bucky barely looks at him and then the whole thing gets swept into an avalanche of inadequacy as Bucky asks how the week went and he realizes Sharon is gearing up to talk about how he doesn’t get hard and won’t ‘put out’ as much as she wants.

How could Steve have been so stupid? How could he not have thought through what they’d have to talk about? It’s like he’d forgotten. They’re here because he’s a failure and she’s going to tell Bucky all about it.

He reaches out to her, a hand on her arm, pleading. _Please don’t let him know I can’t satisfy you._ She looks away from him, scoots over, his hand falling off of her. He wants to die.

“Well, that’s always a bad sign. What happened?” Bucky asks, gently.

“She thinks I’m a prude,” he says, one last attempt to frame the argument in a way he can stand. He’ll take prude over impotent any day.

“Friday night comes along and, of _course_, he doesn’t want to go out. I see my friends, we have dinner and a few drinks, I come home… he won’t have sex with me. He says I’m too drunk.”

Bucky nods like this isn’t a big deal. “How much did you have to drink?”

“I had four drinks over a three hour time period, with food. They weren’t mixed drinks. It was wine and a shot of tequila my friend Maria made us drink.”

“Are you a bad drunk?” Bucky asks. “You know, arguments, violence, sobbing, that sort of thing? I was a god awful drunk in college.”

“No. I usually like greasy food and sex.”

“Ah, you’re a horny drunk,” Bucky says, with an understanding smile.

“Exactly,” Sharon says, pleased that Bucky seems to get it. Fuck the both of them.

“Steve, what kind of a drinker are you?”

“Alcohol has no effect on me.” That did sound rather prudish. He frowns.

“Okay. What is it about her drinking that bothers you?”

“It’s me being responsible… I’m not taking advantage of her. I don’t see why it’s a problem.”

“I _want_ to be taken advantage of and I can consent. If he walked into my office, any day or time and wanted _anything,_ I’d be onboard. A blowjob before a meeting, no problem. A quickie at lunch, a-anything, actually—” And she starts crying.

Bucky gives him raised ‘do you want to hug her?’ brows. Steve looks away, crosses his arms, even though it’s probably just going to give him away. He clutches at himself with his arms folded, makes himself fit better into the side of the couch. No one is offering him a fucking hug.

“Steve?” Bucky asks.

He wants to disappear. He wants Bucky to hold him. He wants to go back to bed and hide under the covers. He wants… he wants to be in his closet with a few towels over himself and a cock filling him up, soothing him and making everything simple.

Yes, that’s what he needs. Instead, he’s being attacked. Why won’t he hug her now when she’s upset? Why can’t he do normal boyfriend things?

He glares at Bucky, willing him to understand how fucking betrayed he feels by _him,_ personally. Bucky opens his mouth to say something, closes it again. At a loss for words or something. “There isn’t a wrong answer,” he finally says.

Steve hauls in a breath. “She goes out, she comes home and it’s…whatever energy she’s bringing home has nothing to do with me. I’m just there, expected to… and there’s no notice, no _time_, to get in the mood. I can’t go from zero to _fuck _with no build up,” he says, crudely, biting the words out because he’s so angry and no one gives a shit that this is hard for him too. It isn’t fair. 

“I don’t think you want to,” she says. And then, she screws him over. Utter betrayal. “Maybe you _can’t_.”

“What do you mean, can’t?” Bucky asks.

“He’s rarely hard. He tries to distract me. Like I won’t notice that he’s going down on me, giving me pleasure and he’s not… into it.”

“I’m into it! I just… I just don’t have a huge sex drive,” he says. “I pleasure you. I do my best by you. I swear.” He doesn’t. He’d be hard for her if he was doing his best. He’d put aside the sick things and do the normal things like he’s supposed to if he was doing his best.

“Steve, have you noticed that getting hard enough for penetration is an issue?”

“No,” he growls. He desperately wants to punch something. He zeroes in on the trash can in case he throws up. Good to know where it is.

“You know that’s not true,” she whispers. “I go to so much effort to be desirable. New lingerie, I get my nails done, I wear makeup to _bed _and take it off once he goes to sleep. I got a Brazilian and not only does he not care, but he’s more groomed than I am.He has—” The sobbing stops her.

Sweet, merciful Zeus, she finally stops talking. Steve swallows down bile.

“What?” Bucky asks. Steve hates him for asking.

“I think… I think he’s gay. Or bi. And I think… I think he’s cheating on me.”

“I would _never_ do that,” he says, with complete certainty. “And, I’m not… either of those.”

“Would it be wrong to be gay?” Bucky asks.

“I thought you were in the military.”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell? Yeah. That’s all over with now. Any place you might actually want to go to in America, allows gay marriage. But, internalized homophobia is real.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Bucky uses his patient voice. As if he’s so understanding. “Someone with same-sex attraction that is so against the idea, turns all that negativity inwards. Denial is pretty common.”

“That sounds awful, but it isn’t my problem,” he says, voice shaking. What if he starts crying?

“Steve, you have anal _bleach_. I didn’t even know it existed! It’s opened. He uses it. Why on earth would you have such a thing if you’re not…? And, I’ve offered to try anal sex, and he has zero interest in that either. So, why? I just want to know what he _likes_. I don’t _know_. Isn’t that weird? To have no idea what your boyfriend likes after six months?”

“Pardon my language, but I made you _come_ twice yesterday. I _fucked_ you in the shower this morning.”

“Pardon my language,” she sneers, “You _fucked_ me because we were coming here and you were terrified I was going to bring up the fact that usually you can’t get hard.”

“I’m going to interrupt. This is going downhill fast. First of all, there’s a lot of emotion and stigma around impotence and penetration, and that’s all deeply unhelpful. A man’s masculinity and worth isn’t tied to how big or hard his dick gets. If that’s your focus in the bedroom — is Steve hard, then it’s over. And… if that’s an issue, that might be something that would be better suited to a one on one conversation between Steve and I. The real issue is satisfaction. Does what you do in the bedroom bring you closer together and do you both enjoy it? That’s the only criteria for whether or not you have a good sex life.”

“Yes,” Steve says, determinedly. 

“You’re lying. You make me enjoy it and it’s a relief for you when it’s over.”

“I _make_ you enjoy it?” What does that even mean?

“Is it because I’m not her?” Sharon demands.

“_Bullshit_,” Steve says, and now he is really pissed. He’s going to tell her to go fuck herself. He bites it back. 

“Who?” Bucky asks.

“My aunt. Agent Carter, the _love_ of his life. She was perfect as far as he’s concerned.”

“I’ve never said that,” his voice is trembling.

“You’d get it up for _her_. It wouldn’t be like a fucking party or reason to celebrate every time you—” She starts crying again.

Steve officially wants to die. He can’t look at Bucky. He can’t look at Sharon. He’d known the impotence was the reason they were here, but it’s different to hear it said aloud. In front of Bucky. The idea that he’s disappointing him, that he’s not capable, that he can’t give pleasure or provide satisfaction is horrible.

Steve had gotten complacent. It had been easy in the first two sessions, comparatively. But, he can’t do this if this is how it’s going to be. He can’t stand for Bucky to know his sexual failings.

Steve is… what? How does he get through this? Captain America. He can inhabit that when he needs to. He is an island and he can sit here and make it through the hour, and he can pretend to be someone else. Can’t he?

He just has to get back up, stay the course. Very clearly, staring at the wall, he says, “I wanted to have sex this morning. On Monday night, I made you come, I’m… _good_. It’s good,” he repeats, because he did. He was good. He tried and he succeeded and she’s making him seem like he’s _bad_. In front of Bucky.

“Yes, you’re a fucking hero,” she says.

“Wait. Stop,” Bucky says, firmly. “This isn’t about your sex life or performance. We might talk about that later, but the elephant in the room is your previous relationship with her aunt. I don’t want to talk about what is or isn’t happening in the bedroom. Steve,” he says, waiting for Steve to look at him.“We’re okay.”

Relief floods through him. He’ll take the reprieve. He nods, blinks. Tries to wipe away a fucking tear without Bucky noticing. Everyone is waiting for him to say something. 

“We never even had sex. We kissed once, before I died. She was a helluva woman, but we weren’t in love. And, it was 1945, for fuck’s sake.”

“Not for you. You say it was all these decades ago, but it wasn’t decades for you,” she says, tiredly. Steve takes a deep breath. He can’t win. Either the past is a really long time ago and he should move on, or it’s still coloring everything and he hasn’t dealt with it and is therefore maladjusted.

“You didn’t die,” Bucky says.

“What?” Steve demands, because he can feel Bucky watching him, and that’s not… where did that come from?

“You’re here. You were frozen, but not dead. Right?”

“I don’t know that the semantics matter.” Steve shakes his head, wanting this to stop. It’s like the first day. Something is coming. Bucky is watching him, he’s got something that’s going to level Steve and he can’t deal with that today.

“Do you feel like you’ve been given a second chance or do you feel like you’re still in the same fight?”

He doesn’t like that question. He doesn’t know how to answer it. “It’s a second chance,” Steve says, without enough conviction. Bucky smiles at him. Sympathetic and understanding, and the urge to just get on the ground and _crawl_ over to him, bury his face in the man’s crotch is overwhelming. “Don’t ask me,” Steve says, and it sounds like he’s begging.

Bucky looks down at his paper. Puts the tip of his pen on it like he might write something and doesn’t. He’s buying time, Steve realizes. Bucky needs a moment. What does that mean?

Finally, he looks at Steve again. His cheeks are pink. He clears his throat, but his voice is gravel. “You’re good, Steve. You are,” he says, like a private little time out for just the two of them. Steve’s cock starts to get hard and he looks away. He wants to hoard that compliment, wrap it around himself like a fucking blanket. He’s _good_.

A moment passes. “Sharon, this isn’t an easy question and it may take some thought, but what do you need for him to say or do so that you can get over that fear of not being his number one choice? And, let’s leave more sex out of possible solutions for now.”

She shrugs, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “I don’t know.” A moment passes. Bucky waits. Steve has nothing to say. He’s still clinging to Bucky’s compliment. “I just want to feel like he wants _me_. It’s all a performance. At least, that’s what it feels like. He’s giving me what he thinks he should, or what I want, but it’s not what he wants.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Steve says, staring at his hands. No one can know what he wants. 

“Stevie. Sorry, _Steve._ It’s not ridiculous to her. This is how she feels. She’s telling you what goes on in her head when you try to be intimate together. I promise you, you want to listen,” Bucky says. Steve keeps staring at Bucky. Bucky is the one who looks away. Can he be Stevie?

“How do you know it isn’t what he wants?” Bucky asks.

“There was one time, one time, where he really let go and I felt like he wanted me and it didn’t have anything to do with me.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, feeling helpless, bewildered and a little enraged. What fucking time is it?

“The Halloween party. I dressed up like my aunt. Copied her hair and her lipstick, even borrowed her outfit. It was stupid. It was… and he fucked me like he’s never fucked me before or since.”

“Oh, my god,” Steve says, mortified. He can’t win. He can’t explain. “I swear it wasn’t that I was thinking of her.”

“It would actually be better if you just admitted it,” she said. “You’re lying to me.”

“No. I’m not. I… that wasn’t it,” he says, desperate and cold and no one touches him. He grabs onto himself tighter.

“Does this night stand out to you, too, Steve?”

“It had nothing to do with the outfit and I didn’t think she was Peggy or wish she was. It wasn’t that, _at all_,” he says, and wipes at his cheeks. He’s pleading with Bucky to believe him. To take his side and just save him from this. 

“Can you tell her what it was?”

He can’t. Everything will fall apart if he confesses. Sharon cries harder. “Steve, I think… if you want this relationship to work, you’re going to have to be a bit more open about what you like, sexually.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve whispers.

“I actually believe you, that it wasn’t about Peggy. I also think, whatever happened that night, you were more amorous than normal? We all have things we like. So what? The best thing about sharing what you like, is that you’re very likely to get it more often. Wouldn’t it be better to have someone you can be fully intimate with?”

Steve decides to give half of an answer. There isn’t another option at this point. “You wore those shoes. They had four inch heels and they were pointy. Stiletto. We went into the bathroom and you got up on the counter, my pants were down and your foot was… it was sensitive. It felt good.”

She’s looking at him like he’s insane. “You’re telling me, the heel of my shoe rubbed against your asshole and so that’s why you fucked me so hard?”

He shrugs. His palms start to sweat.

“I guess I’m not surprised,” she says, and it’s like a car crash slowly coming at him. “He um… he has a dildo. He—”

“That’s it. You can’t make me do this,” Steve pleads, getting to his feet. He’s asking Bucky to leave.

Bucky gets to his feet, too, holds his hand out towards Steve. _Stay_. “Every guy likes anal. They either want to fuck someone in the ass or they want to get fucked in the ass or both. That isn’t a big deal,” Bucky says, calmly.

Hearing it aloud is shocking.

“You’re going to get two of the things I wind up saying the most to my clients— it doesn’t mean anything if he likes ass play. There are a lot of nerve endings in the ass and men have the prostate. Every guy that is even vaguely open minded, has tried it and probably liked it. Secondly, it sounds like you went looking through his private stuff?”

She looks up at Bucky, almost accusing. “I _had_ to. He keeps everything from me. It’s what I _do_. It’s my job.”

“Sharon. If you want your personal relationship to work, you’ll need to change that. It’s another way of spying on him and that’s always going to be a landmine. How could he not feel betrayed and want to hide at least a little? It’s a pattern, Sharon.” And it’s the first time, Steve is almost sure, that a little bit of Bucky’s real emotion gets through, that Steve thinks Bucky is, at least for this, on his side.

“I know,” she says. “And, I’m sorry. I am. But… the things he likes. The porn and the toys, he likes and wants things that are awful, just _gross_—”

“_Sharon._ You don’t want to say it like that,” Bucky practically growls.

She looks at Bucky, a hard look. “I don’t think I want to do anything that he really likes. And his… performing, the pretending…. I think I’m done,” she says, very resolute. Calm. Like a huge weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. “Thanks. This was helpful,” she says, and she walks out the door.

Steve looks blankly at the clock. There’s still 20 minutes left. How is that possible? He’s had physical torture move faster than this.

“Fuck. Sit down,” Bucky orders, and he moves to follow her. He calls Sharon’s name but she doesn’t stop. Steve doesn’t move. Is that it then? His ears are ringing. Bucky is suddenly standing in front of him, peering at him. “Hey. You look like you’re about to pass out. I’m going to touch you. Get you seated, okay?”

Steve can’t move. Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, near his collarbone, fingers pressing in. Steve’s legs give out and he goes down to the ground, collapsing. Bucky grabs him, softens the fall, taking some of his weight as he goes to his knees beside him. “This isn’t the couch, buddy.”

An odd sort of numbness goes over him, like nothing really matters and everything is under water. It makes him honest. “The funny part is, it wasn’t the shoe. I’d tried figging for the first time and I was on _fire_, god I just wanted to get fucked so badly. I barely knew what she was wearing, I was so god damned desperate. The figging was like a last hurrah, I wanted to feel it just once, and then I was going to be done with it and we’d be happy and I’d… I’d be able to be what she wanted. We were at this party and I thought I was finally doing it right. Being overcome with _desire_ and taking her in the bathroom. I tried to take all that… that _lust_ and just… focus it on her. It had nothing to do with Peggy.” It’s a confession and it feels like one. As if he’s already lighter now that Bucky knows this horrible thing. 

“Are you cheating on her?” Bucky finally asks.

“No. Of course not.”

Bucky shrugs. “You wouldn’t be the first. And, you said you wanted to get fucked. Who was that?”

“My… myself. I—” He shakes his head.

“Do you want a hug?”

He realizes how he’s clinging onto Bucky, that he’s practically dragging Bucky into a hug and Bucky is resisting, trying to keep some distance between them. Steve lets go, slumps down. Dejected and rejected. It’s not a genuine offer. Bucky doesn’t want to touch him, it’s just that Steve wouldn’t let go.

“Sorry.” He wipes away more tears. “I do all of it with myself. For myself. It’s a secret. Well, it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Eh. It’s now a two person secret, it’s basically the same thing,” Bucky says, with a one shoulder shrug.

Steve glares. “It isn’t the same fucking thing.”

“No, I guess not. But, anal play and anal sex is _really_ common. If she was open to the idea, is that a side of yourself you’d want to share with her?”

“No,” he answers, immediately.

“Can you ever imagine yourself sharing that with someone?”

_Just you_. Thank fuck he’s got enough sanity to not say that aloud. Lose his therapist and girlfriend in one day. Wait. Did she just break up with him? Bucky touches his arm, a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know. It would have to be… appreciated.”

“A lot of women react negatively to the idea of their boyfriend wanting anal play. At first. But, she wants you aroused and I think she’ll come around if that’s what turns you on. I’m not telling you to decide or that you should do it, I’m just telling you… options. If… if this is a relationship you’re going to try to preserve.”

“What’s the other option?”

“Break up. Try to stay friendly or hope one of you moves to the other side of the country? What everyone does when they break up.”

“I’ve never… this is my first relationship.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Of course. I hadn’t really thought it all through, the timeline. I guess I’d just assumed… I have no way to finish that sentence,” Bucky says, huffing a forced kind of laugh.

“You thought I had more experience.”

“It was a stupid assumption.”

“Why… why would you think that?”

Bucky’s smile is radiant. “Are you fishing for compliments, Steve?”

The blush happens so fast Steve is surprised his head doesn’t explode. “What? No, I— no.”

“I was joking. You’ve always been attractive and interesting, before and after the serum, so I’d kind of assumed you’d enjoyed that attention at some point. Taken advantage of your appeal.” It’s a convoluted thought. Carefully worded to not make Steve uncomfortable or something. It’s bullshit, anyway.He knows what his appeal was before the serum.

“I don’t like to fail. At anything. To fail her and this relationship, I don’t know if I can do that.”

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. “She may not leave you much of a choice. And, you know, relationships are supposed to make you feel good. Help you recharge and support you. They’re not supposed to be all work and… misery.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a quitter. If I let her go….”

“No, you’re not a quitter. Come on, you _know_ that,” he says, calling him out. “Here’s the truth. This is why you’re paying me the big money, are you listening?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, because Bucky is being all authoritative and he’s down on the ground and it seems like the right thing to say. Bucky shakes his head, looking away from him for a second.

“Fuck. I forgot what I was going to say. _Wait._ No, I didn’t. Right. If you want to get her back, then you both need to be ready to start over. This relationship you’re in, is done. It’s fucked beyond repair. I know for a fact you can get hard. Impotence isn’t your problem. You’ve already said it yourself, lack of desire for her is. That’s pretty difficult to conjure up, especially if you’re kinky and your partner is vanilla. And… it’s even more difficult if you’ve got an anal fetish, you like to get fucked, and figged, and I imagine used, and that’s something you’re unable to share with your partner. Wanting those things, as badly as I suspect you want them, and saying you’ll _never_ let yourself have them, doesn’t sound like a good way to live. You won’t be happy. You just won’t. And you deserve to be happy.”

“No,” Steve says. “Not if it’s like that.”

Bucky sighs. Gets to his feet and hauls Steve up off the ground. He urges him back to the couch. Sits down next to him, turns to face him. Close and the same height.

_I would do anything for you_, Steve thinks, and hates himself. He looks away. He needs to stop coming here. Bucky is this weird temptation and it’s making everything more difficult. Making it work with Sharon is the right thing to do. Wanting to shove silicone up his ass and curl up in his closet is not something to encourage or desire. How can he not see Bucky anymore?

“I guess we’re at the point where we need to have an honest conversation or we just call it a session for the day. That’s up to you.”

Fuck, why is it always up to him? “Tell me what to do,” he whispers.

Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. All I can do is try to give you a way to frame this in your mind. But, I can’t make decisions for you and… and I can’t be the _reason_ you make decisions,” he says, in a careful way.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Then forget I said it,” he says, firmly.

“You make it worse. If you knew… I can’t see you again. I just can’t.” He gags. Dashes for the trashcan and dry heaves for a minute. Bucky hasn’t moved. He’s sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, jaw so hard, Steve can see the muscle ticking.

Steve sits back down, head in his hands. Several breaths go by before he becomes fully aware that Bucky is just staring at him. He turns to look, at his mouth and his eyes, and his hands. He looks down Bucky’s body, wishing he could sit in his lap. He can’t come here anymore. It’s the only answer if he wants to make it work with Sharon.

“God, I can see you so fucking clearly, Steve. Read everything on your face and in how you hold yourself. You are….” Bucky rubs his hand over his face, through his hair in a rough sort of way. “Okay. Fine. You’ve decided then? You want to live the heterosexual dream with your beautiful girlfriend and have a lot of missionary sex and get blowjobs for your birthday?” Bucky asks, overly casual, but there’s a thread of anger under there. Is it anger? Bucky is angry at him?

“You mean, do I want to be normal and happy and live a life like most everyone else dreams about? Yeah, I do,” he says, hurt and annoyed that Bucky is being so gruff with him. “I’m Captain _fucking_ America, I don’t get to do whatever it is you think I even want. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

Bucky closes his eyes, his nostrils flare as he drags in a big breath and then exhales. He’s really fucking beautiful, Steve thinks. And it cements it for him. The decision to not come back. The moment he’s close to Bucky, sees him, nothing else matters. His stomach is killing him.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. I can’t keep coming here and seeing you and… there’s a _plan_. A way to live. If she’ll take me back. We could… if I offered to marry her?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Bucky demands, then covers his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry. That was _not_ the right way to say that. But, marrying her or getting engaged will not fix your current problems. You’re smarter than that, Steve.”

“It just needs to fix me. I do better under pressure and it might focus my mind where it should be.”

“Fix you,” Bucky says, flatly. “Let’s look at this differently then. I feel like we’re talking about two things here and I’m not sure if one is the problem or both. If you like men, just _if_, you’d be giving that up. Right? Forever… and getting _engaged_,” Steve is surprised Bucky can get the words out he seems to find the idea so disgusting. There is no way this can be professional, right? 

“Yes.”

“So, that’s the first hypothetical question. What does it mean if you decide you’re never going to experience any of that? You don’t get to come home after a long, horrible day and get a hug from your boyfriend. You don’t get to be the little spoon, and get told everything will be okay because your fella wants to take care of it and you. There’s no cuddling on the couch or hand jobs in the shower,” he says, voice low and as if he’s trying to force Steve to think about each word and put a mental picture with it. It’s devastating. “You don’t get to wear each others clothes or lick off his sweat. You don’t get to _bottom_ for him, you don’t get his _dick_ in your mouth or your ass. You don’t get his _hand_ in your hair making you swallow because he’s got to come down your throat. That’s the first thing you’re giving up forever and deciding you don’t need. Right?”he asks, sounding a little mean.

Steve shakes his head. He can’t answer. His eyes fill with tears. He puts his hand around his stomach, holding himself together by the thinnest bit of self-control. How can Bucky say those things to him? How does he know?

Bucky sighs. “Maybe you should say it. ‘I’ll give all that up to be normal.’” Bucky reaches out, a finger under Steve’s chin. “Say it for me. Tell me you don’t want dick. Tell me you don’t need it. Do you think about how heavy and hot he’ll be on top of you?”

“You’re hurting me,” he whispers. “You have this effect… I don’t even know why. It’s not like you want it or it’s reasonable, but… it’s awful and you’re hurting me.”

“No,” Bucky says, hand reaching out to Steve, gripping him by the shoulder, hard enough that he has to stay. Endure. Bucky’s eyes look a little wet and that’s not something Steve’s equipped to deal with. “That’s _not_ what I’m doing. Hurting you isn’t my intention. It may feel that way to you, but I promise you, baby, that isn’t what this is. You are at a point where you need to decide. _You_ have to make this decision. Just you. But, I will not let you leave here without you at least acknowledging that you’re giving up things you could fucking have, and really, that I think you need.”

Steve can’t look him in the face. He wants to be on the ground still. On his knees. He doesn’t need to do anything else. Just sit there. He looks at that spot. Where he wants to be. As if that might make it better or easier to bear if he can at least see it. Bucky tries to catch his eye, “Stevie, you can’t even look at me?”

“Do you need me to?” he whispers. Because he can’t do it for himself, but he’ll find a way to do it for Bucky.

“None of this is for me.” Steve frowns. Then what’s the fucking point? “I think the floor might catch on fire if you stare any harder.” Bucky takes a big breath in. His hand lifts, like he’s about to reach for Steve, and he pulls it back again. “This is for you, Steve. And… it would make me happy to know what you want. To help you. This is your session, I’m not taking your choices away from you. You just…. Sit on the floor if you want to. That’s up to you. Get on the ground, in that spot you can’t stop looking at, if you want.”

“I might never get up again,” he says, wanting it to be a joke.

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky says, lips pressed together and deeply non-committal.

“Tell me,” he begs.

“I can’t do that. I can’t, Steve,” he says, and it sounds like he’s in pain. Steve looks at him, really looks. Bucky has a slightly heartbroken expression on his face. Eyes wide, jaw tight. He touches Steve’s face, just under his bottom lip. So faintly that if he hadn’t seen it, he might have thought it wasn’t real.

He can’t stand that, Bucky looking like that and Steve being the cause. He moves forward, a bit of a lunge and too fast, certainly not graceful. He doesn’t even have a plan. Is he trying to kiss him?

The metal hand intercepts him, fast as lightning, on his shoulder, pushing Steve down instead. He goes, what can only be described as a grateful moan, coming out of his mouth as he slides off the couch to the ground. And that should be better, but somehow it’s worse. So much fucking worse, because this _is_ where he belongs, he realizes with bone deep certainty as soon as his knees hit the ground. This is perfect and quiet and if he’s here then he’s perfect, too.

He’s never been this perfect.

This moment on the ground at Bucky’s feet, with his hand hard on Steve’s shoulder is just as good as he feared it would be. How does he live with that and not have it?

He’s on the outside of Bucky’s legs. He can put his head on his leg, but it isn’t where he wants to go. Bucky’s cock is so god damned close. He can deep throat. He can take him all the way down and swallow. He’s practiced at home and he can do that for him. It’s not that Steve reaches or really even moves, but Bucky somehow knows what he’s thinking because he says, “Don’t even _think_ about it,” in a low, horrible voice.

The rejection is like acid inside him. He sobs hard into Bucky’s leg. “You don’t get it because you don’t want it. You’ve decided. You aren’t gay. You don’t need a cock in you. You’re giving it up without even knowing.”

“You won’t let me know.”

“_I _won’t—” Bucky barks out a laugh. “You’re deciding for _you. _I am… I am not your boyfriend. I am not the one who will give you those things. It would kill me to have you fuck up your life for me. I won’t take away your choices. I am your _therapist_, I am _only_ your therapist and you will make these decisions for you and you alone.”

“I don’t want to make any fucking _decisions_! You,” he whispers. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s thigh. “Tell me,” he begs, pressing more kisses, wanting to get closer.

“You’ve already decided you want her. So stop kissing my fucking leg or you’ll come back up to the couch.” Bucky’s voice sounds like Steve feels.

“Damnit, Steve. Let’s finish this. You’re almost done here,” he says, voice rough. “Then you can go and… _think_. What else are you giving up? What’s the title?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he finally says. He doesn’t kiss Bucky’s leg. He rolls his lips into his mouth as a reminder.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Bucky murmurs.

“I feel like I’m going to die.”

Bucky wipes away a tear from Steve’s face and Steve presses into his hand. He just has to. He sobs against Bucky’s hand and Bucky leans forward, kisses the top of Steve’s head and sits back. “You’re very strong and very brave and you’re going to be okay.” That doesn’t stop the tears. Steve sniffs loudly.

“Want my hand in your hair?” Bucky asks, gently.

He nods, a giant sob trapped inside him. If that sob comes out, he’s done. It’s the last thing he’s clinging to and forcing down inside him. It’s the Pandora’s Box of sobs. Bucky touches him. Fingers gently carding through Steve’s hair. He wants so god damned much from Bucky that he almost wonders if it makes it worse.

Bucky’s fingers slip down the back of his skull, dig gently into the base and he shifts on the ground, abruptly aware that he’s becoming achingly hard. The tips of Bucky’s fingers are burning golden hot into his skull, snaking down his neck and his back. He’s empty.

“Grab your neck?” Bucky asks. Steve presses harder against his leg. Forehead smashed between Bucky’s thigh and the couch, his legs spread. “Just to calm you. So we can talk,” Bucky whispers, and his hand shifts, grabbing Steve by the back of the neck.

“Please,” Steve gasps, because it’s too much, and he needs so much more, but he can’t deal with this. Bucky’s hand is large, his wide palm pressing flat, squeezing gently into the muscle and Steve goes limp but fights it, certain he’ll come if he gives in completely. His hand slips down, the heel of his hand pressing hard against his cock and balls, desperate to stave it off.

Bucky lets him go. He can’t stand it when Bucky lets him go. He whimpers.

“Who are you down on your knees? Do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. His breathing is so loud and ragged. His hand is on his cock, squeezing so hard.

“Do you _want _to know?” Bucky demands.

“No,” he says, overcome with absolute terror. Bucky could make him come so easily. Could break him so easily. Does he even know? How could he? It’s not rational to feel this way towards someone. Bucky already said Steve isn’t his.

“I don’t believe you. Should I ask you again? It’s a hard question, Steve. And you don’t have to know the answer, there are options. A pet? A slave? A boy? Even a whore. You can be any of those and more. Tell me what resonates.”

“I can’t.” And, that’s not his decision. Not really. He knows what he _wants_ to be called, but that’s up to his master to name him. To really decide what he is.

“You live a life of sacrifice, sweetheart. But, not everyone should get a piece of you. And they certainly shouldn’t get all of you. You’re allowed to want things for yourself. It’s impossible to be happy if you can’t let yourself.”

Bucky seems content to let that roll around in Steve’s mind, waiting for him to respond.

“I’m not sure what good it would do me. Happiness isn’t something you get to keep, it’s not a thing. I can’t control it and… isn’t it worse when it’s gone? When it touches you and then takes itself away from you?” he whispers, looks at Bucky accusingly.

“You can’t put the burden of your happiness on one person.”

“I think I felt better before this,” he says. And he means before the floor and the hand and meeting Bucky. “What I had before hurt less.”

“You don’t count your pain as having any value. You don’t feel the need, as you should, to spare yourself pain. So, you’ll actually do it, won’t you? Walk out of here and try to fix it with her, because you don’t know how to give yourself more. Fine. What about _him_ then?”

Steve looks up at him from the floor. Bucky looking down at him with those all-knowing gray eyes. This isn’t fair. He’s doing it again. Led Steve to a trap and he didn’t even know it was happening. Has no idea how he got there, let alone how he gets out.

“Him?” Steve tries.

“In your fantasy, what do you call _him_?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“No, you’re not. Hold onto me. Go on. Wrap your arms around my leg and hold on tight.”

Bucky’s hands come down, in his lap and it takes Steve a minute to figure out that it’s to keep a bit of distance between his groin and Steve’s face. That somehow Steve has managed to shift around and is now closer to being between Bucky’s legs. He presses his head into Bucky’s thigh again, near his knee, being good. Steve sighs in relief. It’s like he’s just gotten inside from the storm. He loves it here. Bucky’s pants against his forehead. His hand so close.

“Good, Steve. What do you call him? Keep your eyes closed. Tell me. Just me.”

“Master.”

“A master or _your_ master?” He shakes his head. Don’t make me say that, he thinks, desperately.

Bucky waits.

“_My_ master.” He’s sick with it. The wanting and the awful goodness of putting it out into the world when he’s sitting at this man’s feet. He presses his hand to his cock, hoping he’s hidden.

“What happens to him if you give it all up to live a normal life? You’re not just denying yourself. You’re denying him.”

And there it is. The knife Bucky had tucked in his hand and that Steve couldn’t see, is shoved into his heart and ripping him open. Not just that Steve would let himself be miserable, but his master. And, he can’t do that.

“How can you say that to me?” he whispers, and the tears come. He sobs and Bucky leans over, kisses his head again, lets him feel protected while he cries. It’s one thing to deny himself, but he can’t deny his master. Not if it’s real.

It isn’t real. It takes a while for him to stop crying. Bucky giving him a few tissues. His head aches and he feels absolutely awful when he stops. He hasn’t a clue how he’s going to get off this floor. And he can’t ever come back here. The only real thing is Sharon. She is the certainty. Isn’t she?

“It should give you comfort, Steve. If you can’t do it for you, do it for him. You don’t want to recognize your needs, that’s okay, so long as you recognize his. If you choose to give everything up and live that lie, you don’t just decide for you. You deny your master. You leave him without his good boy.”

***

Steve goes to a bar. He’s got two missed calls from Sharon and then a message saying she’s going to stay the night with Maria and they can talk tomorrow. She says everything is going to be okay.

He has no idea what she might mean by that. And he doesn’t know if it is going to be okay. It doesn’t seem likely. The bar was empty when he got here. It’s filled up now, people getting off work and out for a drink with their friends and partners.

His phone buzzes with a new text and he checks it because he has nothing else to do. _Hey Steve, this is Bucky. Just wanted to check up on you. Today was rough. Please let me know if you’re alright. _

He texts back,_ I’m alright. I even have company. _He sends a picture of the shot glass in front of him.

_Comedian. Are you alone?_

Steve puts the phone down. It’s that or type ‘fuck you’ and it would only get worse from there. The waitress brings him another drink and he asks for the bill. There is no point to being here for that much longer. He can go… home.

Fuck. That apartment he has with Sharon is his home and he’s going to get all of his things and leave it and her behind. For… _him._ A hypothetical master that is very likely not real and just a perverted fantasy.

This make-believe ‘master’ who he wishes was Bucky but isn’t. It’s a figment of his imagination. He meets women all the time who make veiled comments about all the things they’d let him do to them because he’s their fantasy. He’s no one’s fantasy. It’s a lie. He is a lie. His master is a lie.

And yet, Steve is so fucked up and in love with the concept of a fantasy person that he’s going to be all alone just in case. Stay alone and available and hope his master finds him. Stupid.

Especially because it isn’t Bucky. Bucky won’t ever be his master. He’d made that very fucking clear. The ache in his chest and his stomach is mostly because Bucky doesn’t want him. It should be because it’s over with Sharon and he’s going to be alone. Or, because he needs to find a new place and has an unending number of days and years and decades where it will be just him wishing for someone.

But, it’s Bucky. Steve hurts. It’s genuine heartbreak. He should be locked up in a padded cell. What had he been thinking? What had he expected by such a performance? He’d been on his knees, begging, had tried to throw himself at Bucky and Bucky had dismissed him, stayed professional and when the appointment was over, managed to get him bundled up and out the door so he could ‘help’ some other sorry bastard.

Leaving is a bit of a blur. He can’t quite remember what was said after Bucky told him he’d be leaving his master without his boy. His _good_ boy. His decision had come into a horrible sort of clarity and everything else had been irrelevant. What about his master’s needs?

He’ll make sure it’s over with Sharon. Or not try to get back together with her, wherever they are at the moment. She deserves someone who isn’t gay and wishing they were a slave.

As an identity, it’s concise. He’s a gay slave with no master. Captain America: Gay Slave. The waitress puts down his drink and walks away. Someone pulls out the chair beside him.

“Oh, good. Can I drink that?” Bucky asks. Steve blinks owlishly at him. The grief in his chest expands. How do people survive it? He puts his hand up, onto his chest, over his heart, resting it there and trying not to stare at him too hungrily. Steve’s not drunk. But, he may feel something booze related in addition to the grief and emotional exhaustion.

“How did you know where I was?” he asks. Bucky sits down. He’s got his blue jacket on and he takes it off, rubs his hands together and blows on them to warm up. Does the metal one help warm him? Isn’t it cold?

“I recognized the bar from the picture you sent. I never would have found you if you’d used zoom.”

Steve nods, finishes his shot and slides the new one over to Bucky. Bucky takes a sip.

“Ah, the crap stuff.”

“I’m cheap and don’t know the fucking difference.”

“Well, if you can’t get a hangover then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you _want?_” Steve demands, turning only his head to look at him.

“I’m worried about you,” he says, staring at him straight on. 

“Why? I’m Captain America,” he says, and kind of hates himself for saying it. He sounds like a douche. That’s what Sharon would say.

“No, you’re depressed and alone in a whole new world, and your therapist, who is supposed to help you and be impartial, did neither of those things. And, you got dumped.”

Steve burps quietly. “You really think she dumped me?”

“Oh, yeah. I also think you’re better off. But, I said all that already. So, what happened? You walked out of my office and came to the nearest bar?”

“Yes. I’ve been here the entire time. Once I decide to do something, I commit.”

Bucky downs the shot and Steve desperately wants to suck on his neck. The tilt of his head, the column of his neck, even how he swallowed. It’s all beautiful. Steve is pretty sure he’s getting hard. That’s all it takes- Bucky swallowing liquid. God, fuck his life. 

“Christ, that’s awful. What are you going to do, Steve? Are you going to get her back?”

“No. You’ll be happy to know I’m not. I can’t. So, fuck you for that.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Fuck you. You know why.” He shakes his head, feels his jaw lock up tight. He gets out his wallet, puts down cash and shoves to his feet. He heads to the door.

“Hey,” Bucky says, putting a hand on his arm.

Steve stops, pulls his arm out of the way. “You don’t want to do that.”

“What’s your plan now?”

“Pack. She’s not at the apartment tonight. I’m going to stay in a hotel. I don’t want to be there.”

“That’s a good plan. Do you want me to help you pack?”

“No. That is the last thing in the world I want from _you._” He turns away, towards the door again and Bucky grabs him, holding his wrist, forcing Steve to stand there while Bucky looks at him, that quiet assessing gaze that Steve is absolutely positive is a cover for mind-reading or something.

Steve drops his gaze, looks at Bucky’s lips and down his body, sighing so heavily and sadly he’s surprised he just doesn’t fall down. 

“Okay,” Bucky nods, gives his wrist a tug, pulling them towards the toilets. Bucky stops in the corridor, giving them a bit of privacy. A waitress comes out of the kitchen and gives them a bored look.

“And that isn’t what I want to give you. But, you’re in a vulnerable state and I’m already fucking it up enough already, so that’s all I can offer you tonight. If you want someone there, so your place isn’t quite so lonely while you pack up your stuff to start over, once again, then I will be there. I _want_ to be there.”

“As what?” he asks, already emotional.

“That’s one of the things to talk about,” Bucky finally says.

“_No. _You either are or you’re not my…. I can’t do anything else. I can’t,” Steve pleads. His eyes fill with tears and he’d have sworn there wasn’t a spare drop of liquid in him after all the tears he’s shed today, but there is.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says, gently.

Steve reaches for him, just his sweater, above his waist, like a child or something, just a small amount of attention, a little demand, as small as he can make it when it feels like he’s going to explode from the enormity of the emotion churning inside him.

Bucky reaches for his face, cupping it in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. Soft and practically chaste. His lips and then his cheeks and his forehead. Steve whimpers at every one, wanting it to never end and needing more. Bucky pulls back and looks at him, fondly. “Easy. Just breathe. You don’t need to cry for me yet, sweetheart.”

“Bucky?” Steve clutches his hands on his waist, shuffles just a fraction of a step closer. Needing to be close but scared to go for what he wants. Bucky lets his hands come down Steve’s face, warm and dry, wraps them around Steve and holds him in his arms, giving him a hug.

It’s easy this time. He knows what to do, how to do it and what the purpose of it is. He holds him back, presses his face into Bucky’s neck. He breathes in his skin, so fucking hard that he presses closer, needing Bucky to feel it.

“I _don’t_ want to get carried away here. I’m not going to do something with you in the toilets. I just wanted to reassure you, give you a hug. I hate seeing you upset like this. We should go now,” Bucky says, firmly.

“You hurt me,” Steve says.

Bucky winces. “It was absolutely awful to deny you in there. And, I know it hurt you, baby. It did. I’m so fucking sorry. I hope you know it was for the best.”

He shakes his head. It’s hard to get the words out. “I don’t know that.”

“I want you. I want to be with you. I feel it too, Steve. Like you’re meant to be mine. And I know you want to give up the decisions and obey. And I want you to feel safe enough with me to do that, but that wasn’t the place.”

“Then you fucked up, because I don’t feel safer. You… you _denied_ me. Told me _no_.” It’s burned in his mind, the echo of his denial is still real and present and he doesn’t know if Bucky can fix it or make it better but it’s still like an open wound.

“_Stevie._ I can make a lot of decisions for us, but I couldn’t make that one. That had to be you. And the only way you would make it for yourself was if I wasn’t in the equation. It was very hard to say I don’t want you and that you wouldn’t be mine. It wasn’t fucking true. Beautiful boy,” he says, pressing kisses to his lips. Steve gasps into his mouth. His knees go weak.

“Master,” he begs. It sounds wrong. It’s so… harsh. It’s not an easy word. He doesn’t even know if Bucky wants to be called that or would let Steve call him that. But, the sentiment is there and the kiss is all consuming so it drifts away while Bucky kisses him.

Bucky pulls back, presses his forehead hard against Steve’s. “Let’s go. We’re not doing this here,” he says, firmly. He follows Bucky out the door.

They take the subway and it’s crowded. There’s a seat, but Bucky ignores it, stands off to the side, holds the strap with his metal hand, reaches for Steve, pulling him close with a hand around his lower back and a gentle press. Steve moves into his space, overwhelmed by it.

“Yeah, that’s right. The train is going to move. Hold onto me.”

Fuck, he can’t. He can’t not. Steve nods sharply and ducks close. He lets his shoulders hunch, just presses his face into Bucky’s neck and hauls in a breath. The carriage rocks forward and he lets himself stumble a little closer. Bucky’s arm is warm and strong around him.

“I want you close. Be my good boy and hold onto me,” he whispers, lips moving near Steve’s ear. He wouldn’t have expected to cry, but he does. The tears are steady and he knows Bucky can feel them. Bucky is very still, he’s the island and Steve is clinging to him as the car shrieks on the tracks and people bump into them and get on with their lives. Steve ignores all of it, every single fucking thing that’s going on around them and some part of him drifts away as he leans into Bucky.

It’s something dark and scared, some weird little chunk of nastiness that’s been clinging to his heart and dragging him down and he can practically feel it loosening as time drifts on and Bucky holds him.

He shuffles closer, pulling Bucky into him too, like he has a right to take his touch. As if he’s entitled to it. It isn’t just him clinging and desperate, it’s that this is his place, against Bucky.

Bucky presses his head down, making Steve feel secure and Steve smiles into his skin.

“You could be a professional hugger,” Bucky says, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“Do I have to pay you now?” Steve jokes.

“Not with money,” Bucky says. Bucky says it smiling, Steve can feel it pressed against him, but Steve blushes and gets a little closer, needing to get his aching cock secure against Bucky, too. As if it belongs pressed up against him. If he’s hard Bucky should know. So he can decide what to do with it. The answer might be nothing, he might be completely ignored and left to burn, but shouldn’t he let him know?

He can’t figure out a way to do that here. It would be too much for public. But, he’s hard and he’d give anything for Bucky to put his hand on him. Not even to come, just to be held in his hand. Steve’s hole clenches sympathetically, always so in tune with his cock. It’s never just one part of him that’s needy it seems.

“One more stop,” Bucky says, because he’s been paying attention.

“Okay,” he says, but he thinks about saying ‘yes, master.’ Maybe if Bucky gave him permission or explicitly said, ‘I’m your master now, Steve,’ then it wouldn’t be so weird. Awkward in the mouth. Awkward inside him. 

Bucky chuckles and gives him a squeeze, “Look at you. You’re not even paying attention, are you?” he asks, voice low. Bucky sounds pleased.

“No. I… I’m where I want to be.”

Bucky moves, a little closer, presses on Steve’s lower back, encouraging him to… and there it is. Bucky, hard against him. His face is pressed tight to Steve’s ear. He’s very serious.

“Don’t you dare let me fuck you tonight. I want to do better by you than that.”

“No, that’s not fair. I can’t say no to you,” Steve says, looking up at Bucky in horror.

“Stevie, we have time,” he says, urgently. “This is all such a clusterfuck, but I’ve got to get this part right. I’m sorry I have to ask you, baby. I am. I know you hate it and don’t want the responsibility, but I want you too fucking much. You’re beautiful and I know you’d give me anything, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Bucky,” he says, because it’s true. And it’s an offer.

Bucky frowns. “Fuck. I know. I _know_. And I… can’t. Not yet,” he says, lips close to Steve’s, kissing him softly, but stiffly. “You need to help me, baby.”

First of all, Steve doesn’t fucking want to. Secondly, he doesn’t even know if he can and Bucky’s reasoning sounds like bullshit anyway. If Bucky really wanted him, he wouldn’t be able to wait. He’d need to claim him. Mark him up, cover Steve in his come and make sure he understood who he belonged to.

“I don’t think I can do that. I don’t… I don’t work that way.”

“Steve,” he says, soft but sharp. Steve looks at him. “You do work that way, because I’m telling you that I need you to do this for me. I know how much you need it. I know you want everything and you want it now. And, I want to give it to you so fucking bad. I will. But— _shit_. That’s our stop!”

Steve can’t help but laugh. Bucky is totally red in the face. He starts laughing too. “Oh my god. That’s so stupid. I’m such an idiot. See? Perfect example of why restraint is a two person job. I’m going to take one look at you or touch you and totally forget that we want to wait.”

“_We_ don’t want to wait.” It’s petulant. He can’t help it. He presses a little closer, managing to get his cock against Bucky’s hip, balls slightly supported, hard cock sheltered against him. He trembles.

Bucky moves his head back, somehow giving the impression that he’s peering down at him. “I know. It’s big, isn’t it, baby? Does it still feel good or is it beginning to hurt?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. How he’s supposed to respond. He’s both embarrassed and calmed by the recognition that Bucky is aware of the state he’s in. He starts to slide his hand down Bucky’s stomach, but Bucky stops him. “We get off here,” he says. Bucky takes his hand and they stand on the platform for a minute. Steve just stares at him. Bucky chucks him gently under the chin.

“Are we walking or catching another train?”

“Oh.” Right. Steve shrugs. “It’s half a one, six of the other in terms of distance. We can just walk.” 

“Oh. Good.”

“See? Your worst case scenario happened and it all turned out fine,” Steve says, staring resolutely at the ground, refusing to move. His heart is pounding. 

Bucky casts him a sly look. “A train stop and sex are very different things. Hell, you’re technically still in a relationship, living with your girlfriend.”

Steve glares at him.

“_And_ you don’t know anything about me. I think there are basic, fundamental questions you should ask someone before you consider fucking them, don’t you? Also, you should find a new therapist.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty confident I don’t need to see a sex therapist anymore, at least.”

Bucky rubs his hands up and down Steve’s arms. “Maybe. I’m thinking you’ll need to make sure I know when you’re hard, at least for a while.”

“And, you’ll fix it?”

“Let you come? I don’t know yet. But, even if you don’t need a sex therapist, I need you to keep seeing someone. We’ll make sure it’s someone you feel comfortable with, but it’s not negotiable, baby.”

Steve doesn’t want to go. But, Bucky wants him to. Bucky has decided. He’s telling Steve it needs to be done, that it’s good for him and the rush of warmth that fills Steve with, the sense of safety, makes him agree. “Okay.”

“Good,” he says, and kisses Steve on the mouth. He pulls back and Steve tries to follow him, lips parted and cock aching. Bucky licks his lips and looks away. “You’re a menace.”

“Why are you a sex therapist?” Steve asks, when it’s clear Bucky isn’t going to kiss him again.

“What? Compared to a normal therapist who doesn’t get to talk about sex all day?”

“Yeah. I mean, why would you even want to?”

They get outside the station and it’s cold. Bucky grabs his arm and pulls him close, puts his scarf around Steve’s neck and pulls it through the loop so it’s secure around his neck.

“Thank you,” he says, wishing desperately Bucky would keep touching him. The easy, proprietary nature ofhis touch is even more affecting then he thought it would be. Steve feels foggy with it, a lust filled lethargy sweeping over him at the brief manhandling.

Bucky looks at him happily, smoothing his hand down the material. “Don’t fucking argue about it. Just wear it. Okay, beautiful?”

Bucky offers his hand for Steve to hold. He looks around them. “Now where the fuck is your house? I have no idea where the hell I am.”

Steve doesn’t know if it’s funny, but he thinks it’s funny. Bucky being so annoyed, a little lost. He tugs him in the right direction, clings to his hand.

“Are you okay holding my hand?”

“Honestly? I want you more than anything. It keeps things simple.”

Bucky squeezes his hand in return. “I think you should get to know me quickly so we can get on with this. Why am I a sex therapist? Okay, well. I know kink stuff, because I’m into kink stuff. I always have been, but after I came back from Afghanistan I had a lot of PTSD and was kind of fucked up about why I liked certain things, and what sort of person that made me. I got a psychology degree in college but we didn’t talk about kink or even really about sexuality. Anyway, I went to a therapist in the scene, by which I mean someone who does kink and whom I’d met at various events and stuff, and it took forever to get an appointment, because she was so busy and it was really interesting. So, I went back to school and this is what I do. People are very fucked up about sex.”

Steve laughs. “You don’t say?”

Bucky lifts Steve’s hand, kisses the back of it.

Steve contemplates swooning. He doesn’t need the scarf. He’s so hot he’s worried his hands are about to start sweating. He wants Bucky to always kiss him. He leans into him, wanting everything.

“You’re supposed to be asking me questions,” Bucky murmurs to keep Steve at bay.

“Fuck. I don’t know. You were married?” Steve asks.

He nods. “I _was_ married. My high school girlfriend got pregnant the summer after our senior year. We got married in Vegas, got into a big fight in Vegas because she wanted to party and that’s not what you’re supposed to do when you’re pregnant. Two months later, she had a miscarriage and we took one look at each other and decided to get out while we could.”

“Oh, that’s horrible….”

Bucky shrugs, meets Steve’s gaze easily. “It was a long time ago. I’m glad I’m not with her. Neither of us would have been happy and sometimes it just isn’t meant to be. That’s okay. I like the life I’ve built. I have good friends, I’m pretty sure I’ve just started dating someone new, so yeah, I’m good.”

“Yeah, you have. Why _are_ you single?” Steve demands.

“I appreciate that you say that as if it’s a surprise.”

“It is a surprise. I think one of the few things Sharon and I have managed to agree on recently was the disbelief that someone let you go.”

“Well, I’m pretty gay. That narrows down the field quite a bit in terms of partners. I’m _very_ kinky, which also narrows it down a lot.”

“What do you mean when you say that? What all do you like?” Steve asks, and blushes.

“You want my fetlife profile?” Bucky asks.

“Um, maybe.” Steve knows about fetlife but he’s not on it.

“Well, I identity as a dominant and a sadist but only for specific things, I have a few hard no’s but I don’t think that will be a problem for us. Blood and scat are the most obvious.”

“Does that include enemas?” Steve asks, because he needs to know.

Bucky raises Steve’s hand to his mouth again. “No. I think of that as different. For me, enemas are a sign of control and can be a form of submission. If that’s something you’re into then that works out nicely.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I… I’m probably pretty dependent upon them now,” he says, and shivers at how much confessing it turns him on. He wants to be known by Bucky. 

“Why is that?” Bucky asks, and there’s a little bit of his therapist tone in there now.

“I love being clean. A house is only as good as its foundation or something. So much of what I gravitate to, or think I gravitate to, involves… that part of me so it should be at its very best. _P-perfect_,” he says, and lets go of Bucky’s hand, mortified that he’s stumbled over that word.

“Hmm. Was it strange to go from being the worst at things to the best at things?”

“That sounds like an oversimplification on both sides,” Steve says.

“You know what I mean. I’ve seen the pictures and you were definitely cute as a button, but you had physical limitations, right? Now you don’t. Did your fantasies change? Before I left for Afghanistan I was willing to do stuff sexually that I’m not willing to do now. I’m just wondering if you experienced something like that.”

“Like what stuff?” Steve asks.

“Quid pro quo?”

“That’s just a pretty big statement is all. I want to know what that means.”

Bucky laughs. “Oh, no. Maybe that makes it sound more interesting than it is. I had a fair amount of play partners before I left. Someone who always wanted to be tied up, or have someone beat them up on a St. Andrew’s Cross, that sort of thing. It was casual and between friends but it wasn’t a bond or a commitment. It was a transaction. Like, ‘I’m getting this fulfillment from you and I’m going to go jerk off or put it in my spank bank’, rather than ‘hey, I want to hurt you, fuck you and make you breakfast the next day.’ I didn’t want a one night stand so much as a relationship. That can be difficult to find when you’re kinky. Compatability.”

“Uh huh,” Steve says. He’s definitely interested in this conversation and he’s hard, but there’s also this sense that Bucky might have already done everything already. So what the fuck does he want to waste time with Steve for? All Steve has to give in his submission. And that’s theoretical. “You must have thought it was pretty ridiculous me saying I wanted a master.”

“Why would I think that? And, no, that isn’t what I thought,” Bucky says, looking at him carefully.

“What did you think?”

“Nope. I get an answer first.”

“Because I’ve never done it. Any of this. I have no experience. And you know better. Here you are, comfortable with yourself and sex, lots of experience and I show up, ignorant and I don’t know, maybe I’m just ridiculous.”

Bucky tugs on his arm, so they’re looking at each other again. Steve is pouting. He knows he is because Bucky leans forward and licks his bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth and lets go. “Don’t be silly. I don’t know better. I’m single. And, I have no experience with you. So, we’re on even footing there. But, that’s not how this works. It’s not what we’re doing, is it, Steve?”

“What are we doing?” he asks, voice trembling. He reaches for Bucky’s sweater, but is blocked by his coat. Steve unbuttons his jacket so he can slip his hand inside and hold onto him. He relaxes almost instantly, is closer to the heat of him. He wants to belong to Bucky. How does he make that happen?

Bucky’s staring at him, the top of his head as Steve looks down, staring at Bucky’s chin and his neck. He presses a kiss to the side of Steve’s face. His lips are warm on Steve’s cold skin and he can’t stand being apart from him. “God, Stevie. Tell me you’re not standing there wishing you had my dick inside you.”

Steve hauls in a breath, a small sound escapes him. He does, it’s just about the only thing he’s thinking about. He’s trying to listen and ask questions, and be normal, but what he’s really thinking is he needs Bucky’s cock.

“Tell me where you need my cock. In your hands? In your mouth?”

Steve shoves his other hand in Bucky’s coat, leans forward and sucks on Bucky’s chin, tongue pressing into the divot. “No. No, I need it—”

Bucky is suddenly gripping him between his cheeks, fingers pressing roughly against his hole. “Right here? Is that the spot?”

“I might come… m-master. _Bucky._ Please.” He can’t even press back, is scared to move and have his touch taken away.

Bucky chuckles and lets him go. Steve slumps into him. “I feel how much you need it, Steve. Poor baby. I promise, I’ll fuck you until you know it’s real.”

“When? You said no,” he manages, looking up at him through his lashes.

“You’re going to be the death of me. I said not tonight.”

“I don’t like being told no.”

“Then you’re probably not looking for a master.”

Steve jerks back. Bucky grabs his coat, keeps him close. “Don’t pull away. It’s something to think about. You’re mine now. Do you understand? You can always reach for me. You can always tell me you need my cock. Or a cuddle. You can always ask and I’ll always give it to you, no matter what you decide to call me.”

“But not tonight,” Steve says, desperately sad about it. And, horny. And, pissed off.

“No, not tonight. Look at how ridiculous this is. You came in for your first appointment and it was like ‘okay, here’s a normal guy having problems with his girlfriend.’ And then the second time you came back… it was like, ‘fuck, this guy—‘ I probably shouldn’t finish that thought.”

“Yes, you should,” Steve says.

Bucky exhales. “Okay, look at me.” Steve makes himself meet his gaze, can’t quite believe they’re the same height. God, is he actually taller than Bucky? Bucky’s cold, his cheeks pale, hair blown all over and just gorgeous. “I thought,” he says, looking at Steve’s mouth and then his eyes, “this guy is _mine_. I told you to hug Sharon and I wasn’t very happy about it, because I could feel how much you wanted to be _good_. And what I was making you do, this act I was encouraging you to put on to give her what she wanted, was going to make you miserable and that broke my heart. I don’t care about what you’ve done or not done, because you’re _mine_. All of you is mine. I feel like you’ve been waiting for me, and I’ve been waiting for you and that’s it. It’s creepy. There we are. Does that make sense?”

“Yes… master,” he says, trying it again.

Bucky laughs. “You say it like you’ve swallowed a lemon.”

“I can’t decide how stupid it sounds. I don’t know if it’s weird because I feel like I’m being presumptuous or because it’s not right.”

Bucky shrugs, leans in and kisses him. “It’s a big word. Sometimes you have to say it a bit to get used to it.” He kisses him again. “Or, sometimes, it doesn’t fit.”

“That doesn’t help,” he says, pulling away from him. “Um, I live back that way. I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m freezing to death out here,” Bucky says, “and you’ve got us out here walking the streets? Jesus, Rogers.”

“I could warm you up,” he offers. “But you said we wouldn’t do that tonight.”

“Oh, good. A brat.”

“I’m not a brat!” he says, weirdly offended at the very idea.

“I know. I was teasing.”

“Wait. Really? Do you know?”

“That you’re not a brat?”

“Yeah. Like, how do you know?”

“I mean, I don’t know for _sure_. Time will tell and it depends upon how you react to certain situations, but I wouldn’t put money on you being a brat. Not… intentionally.”

“What am I then?”

“What do you think you are?” Bucky asks, playfully.

“No. Please,” he begs, reaching for him. It should be playful, but it isn’t. It’s everything and he needs to be named and understood and given his place. “Please, tell me.”

“Oh, my sweetheart. You’re so fucking good, aren’t you?” Steve can’t speak. He so desperately wants all of it to be true. “I think you’re a boy. A very _good_ boy. I think you’d do anything to be good. You want to make your partner proud to have you, and you want to please him. And, I think that means you need someone who cares about you a lot, as a person, to live this lifestyle with. Someone who wants to love you and _can_ love you, because being good is important to you and you can get hurt if someone doesn’t take that seriously. You’re not looking for a one night stand, you’re looking for forever. How is that?”

He nods. The only thing that would make it better is if Bucky said Steve was his. Which he didn’t. It’s a very notable, fucking omission. “What am I?” Bucky asks.

Steve looks down. “How would I know?”

“Because you’re a good judge of character and you have an opinion. It doesn’t have to be right. I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know. Right now you’re a pain in my ass, because I have no idea how to answer that.” Steve turns down his own street. “It’s that one over there,” he says, pointing. He can feel that Bucky is still waiting for an answer. Bucky pulls him back into his arms and Steve wants this to be how every conversation goes, him getting dragged into Bucky’s arms as if that alone is a good answer.

“I don’t know who you are with me yet and I don’t want to be presumptuous. We have to find a way for you to have an identity that is not subsumed by me. You will always be a very good boy whether or not that includes me and you will always be looking for your forever d— _person,_ whether it’s me or not. I want it to be me. But, I’m not your identity.”

“That’s such an asshole thing to say, it doesn’t even make any sense,” he says, pulling a little harder this time. Bucky doesn’t let him go and Steve’s so happy about it he just collapses into Bucky. “Just say you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

Bucky laughs. “You’re adorable. I want to take you over my knee and get you sweet again.”

“That isn’t how I would react. I don’t want that,” he says, low and serious.

Bucky leans into him, breathing him in, kissing his neck. “How are you going to give me everything when you don’t know what you have to give? I’m sorry you don’t like it and that you think it’s stupid or me being an asshole, but this will only work if you’re working on building yourself up so you actually can give me parts of yourself. If I make you cry, I need to know you’re confident enough to know it isn’t the end of the world. If you’re on a mission and I can’t talk to you for a week, I need to know you’re going to take care of yourself and get your own needs met. Socially and mentally.It seems like you think I’m the answer to every question, and I’m not. You are the answer.”

“I’m glad I’m not paying you anymore,” he says, holding himself as stiff as possible, trying to lean away without leaning away enough for Bucky to let him go.

“Oh, you’ll pay me. And there will be plenty of times where you’d happily give me money instead. Come on, this is important. I would really like to know what you think I am.”

Steve sighs, shifting on his feet, which may or may not put him slightly closer to Bucky. “You’re… _you_. I want you. I have this weird idea that I kind of… need you. That you’ll take care of me or want to. Maybe keep me safe. Which is dumb because I’m you know, this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at himself.

“That’s all 100% true. Except for the dumb and weird additions. Those are unhelpful words and don’t apply to you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Gets out his keys and walks up to his front door. Being with a therapist is fucking exhausting and it’s been an hour. God, he feels empty inside and he’s still hard and apparently he isn’t going to get sex.

“What’s the deal?” Bucky asks, as if he’s once again reading his mind. Which pisses Steve off to no end, because if Bucky was so smart he’d give Steve what he really needed, which is his cock. And instead he’s shoving the reminder in Steve’s face that he’s not getting it.

“Fuck, that’s not _my_ deal. And you shouldn’t ask that of me,” he says, annoyed as he unlocks the door. It’s easier if he’s not looking at Bucky. “One could say I’ve been waiting a hundred years to get fucked properly and now you won’t. If you’re my fucking master or _dom_ or whatever, then you should claim me.”

The door is open. He turns back to Bucky. Bucky who is standing on the bottom step and may as well be a million miles away since he can’t reach out and touch him. “I said for tonight. But, the truth is, it probably won’t be fora couple of days.”

Steve gasps in fury. “You’re adding on more time? No. Fuck you.”

“I’m not adding on more time, I just hadn’t brought it up as you seemed a little volatile and you’ve had a big day, but I’m thinking now that maybe I shouldn’t dole this out, but have told you all at once. We’re going to go slower than you want. There it is. That is the decision,” he says, firmly. “It isn’t unreasonable. And we’re in this together. I don’t like having to ask you to be part of it. But, if I didn’t, I think you’d be making it really difficult to say no and I want you too much for that. You help me and I help you. That’s how it works. Do you understand?” he asks, sounding a little annoyed himself.

Steve swallows down a ‘yes, sir.’ He feels sick. “Are you annoyed at me?”

“I’m annoyed I can’t give you what we both want. I’m annoyed at myself for trying to be the good guy when you clearly don’t want it and when I desperately need to fuck you. It’s not real annoyance. In a week I’ll look back on this and think it was adorable.”

“Um, because we’ll have had sex by then?”

“Yes,” he says, sounding only mildly exasperated.

“I can… I’ll live with that.” Bucky is still standing at the bottom of the steps. “Are you coming in or what?”

Bucky winces. “I was wondering about that. This is a big moment for you. Do you want time to reflect or process? Maybe I should let you be alone so you can grieve?”

“What the fuck would I be grieving?” he demands, back to annoyed and pouting, apparently, because his lip is cold.

“Steve, you sang a very different tune a few hours ago.”

Steve looks away from him, hand turning the knob absently. He shrugs. “My heart isn’t here. I’ve been more turned on and comfortable with you in the last hour then I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I’m going to go up there and I’m going to feel guilty for wasting so much of her time and being such a shitty boyfriend, but that’s all. Besides, you’re here already. You’re just going to… go?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t know. Do you have a lot of stuff to pack?”

“No. It probably won’t surprise you, but I have very little to pack.”

“Is it more than a suitcase?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Would you like an itemized list?” God, he’s so fucking hard. Is Bucky really going to leave him here? “I won’t try to make you have sex with me,” he bites out.

“Serenity now. What if you pack and I get food? Then you have a bit of time?”

“Fine. But, I don’t need it,” Steve says. His lip is cold again. Damnit.

“I hear you saying that, but, you know, I’m a therapist—”

“Fuck, I know already.”

“_And_, reflection is good for the soul,” Bucky says, sternly. “Go pack and I’ll ring the buzzer in 20. Do you want to say ‘yes, master,’ now? Or, ‘Thank you, master, for taking such good care of me and thinking of me when I want to ignore my own needs?’”

It’s very difficult to bite back a fuck you. Or to not just run down the steps and rip his fucking clothes off. “The buzzer is broken. Here’s the key. Just knock on the door. 4F.” The universe should recognize how restrained he’s being.

“4F? Seriously? You really don’t belong here. Do you like Thai food?”

“Yeah, just don’t do the Italian place, the manager is a jerk. Wait. _Do_ go to the Italian place. The guy is totally fine, but Sharon didn’t like him so we never went. And, just so you know, I would say ‘thank you, master’ but you’re being a dick.”

Bucky gives him a little salute, and a bit of a leer, looking him up and down, before sighing and dashing up the stairs. He kisses Steve on the nose. “You’re adorable.” He jogs back down the steps.

Steve almost giggles as he turns away. He doesn’t. He knows how to shove awkward feelings down.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve goes up the stairs to the apartment, more than a little annoyed at Bucky I’m-a-therapist-therefore-I-know-everything Barnes, opens the door and…. _Shit_.Yeah, it’s a little weird. There is a definite end of _something_ happening here. It might have been unpleasant at the end, he might be feeling relief and a rather large, joyous obsession towards Bucky, but this was still a thing. And it was all he had for months. She was the person he clung to.

Now he’ll cling to Bucky. How long will it take to drive him away, too? He shoves the thought aside. He can’t go down that track right now. This here, his time with Sharon, it’s kind of like coming home from the war. You don’t want to be there, it’s the worst thing ever, you get home, and yet, you miss the camaraderie.

That’s him. He doesn’t want to be here, he’s glad it’s ending but there’s an ache for something that he fucked up and a person he couldn’t make happy. He misses the idea of what he’d hoped they could be. Because they’d never had it.

This space represents all of that. It’s theirs and what they built together. That’s the couch they watch tv on, and try to not have fights on. That’s his chair where he likes to draw and which she thinks is ugly. He pulls out his phone and calls Sharon. She answers on the third ring. As soon as he hears her voice he kind of wonders why he called.

“Hey,” he says.

“You should know I’ve had _five_ drinks,” she says, and her voice definitely slurs. Fantastic, one last jab at him for being prudish and inadequate.

“It was seven!” he hears Maria yell in the background. There’s a giggle from somewhere else.

“Uh, right. So, I’m at the apartment and I figured I should just take my stuff while I’m here. Because, you know, it’s over, isn’t it?” He flops down on the bed, hand over his eyes.

“Yes. It is most definitely over.”

Steve sighs.

“I knew you’d be relieved,” she says, with no small amount of venom.

“You don’t sound un-relieved.”

“I’ve had too many drinks, I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you seem pretty happy about it, too.”

There’s a big sigh, voices fade. A door closes. Her voice echoes a little and he’s pretty sure she’s standing in Maria’s hall bath to have this conversation.

“You’re a good guy, Steve, but this was hard work. You don’t do therapy at six months. I want more, you want more, and I think that if we get out now we might be able to be friends somewhere down the line.”

“I think you’re right,” he says. The relief he feels at it being over and them being in agreement gives him a weird rush of vertigo. Thank fuck.

“Do you want some more free advice?”

“Probably not.” Things were going well for a solid two seconds there.

“If it walks like a duck, and it talks like a duck, then you’re probably gay.”

He blows out a breath and sits up, goes to find his suitcase. “You’re most likely correct.”

“Oh my god! Good for you. Congratulations! Can I tell Maria?”

He shrugs. Not that she can see it. “Yeah, I don’t care. I don’t _think_ I care.” He imagines introducing Bucky as his boyfriend or saying he went out with him. He wants to be able to do that. “Yeah, what the hell? Send out a mass text.”

“Very funny. I’d only tell her because we’re friends and she’s spent a lot of time having to listen to me complain about our relationship.”

“Uh huh. Do you want that lamp you gave me for my birthday?” he asks.

“You hated it. I knew it. Yeah, I like it.”

“Consider it a parting gift,” he says, magnanimously.

She laughs. “So… is that it?”

“I guess. I don’t know what else there is. Oh, you have to tell Peggy.”

“Shit. I’m not telling her why. I’m just going to say it didn’t work out. That’s your conversation.”

“Out of curiosity, and I’m not trying to start a fight here, but, why did you let it go on for so long? You’re beautiful and smart and successful. You could have any guy you wanted. I know your ex’s treated you better than I did. Why did you even bother moving in with me and doing the therapy?”

He isn’t sure she’s going to answer.

“Well, at first it was just attraction, you know? And, you were a virgin. I just figured you had some hangups, and if I gave it time, it would work out. You went through a lot. I know I ran out of patience, but it is an adjustment and it has been hard for you and I hated to think you were alone. I thought… I thought if we broke up you might go down in another plane and then, how was I going to live with that? And, you seemed happy sometimes, like you did a good job pretending you were okay and I wanted to believe that, too. That you were getting better and engaging more, figuring out who you were and what you liked. But… I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hate you and if I don’t get out now, I will. You’re going to be okay, Steve.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He doesn’t really know that. All he knows is that he’s walked straight out of one relationship and potentially into another one and as much as he wants to just… surrender everything to Bucky, that’s not how life works. And, it’s just about possible that he isn’t in the healthiest mindset at the moment. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll let you go back to your friends. Just wanted to check in. Make sure we were on the same page.”

“Yes. For once, we are in total agreement.”

He laughs. It isn’t all that funny.

***

Steve doesn’t have a lot of things. He gets everything into two suitcases and a box that’s half records and half books. Frankly, the most things he owns are apparently sex toys. He looks at his empty walk in closet. Remembers all the nights he’s spent agonized, aroused and alone on that floor.

_Alone_ being the word that makes him turn around and close the door firmly behind him. Good fucking riddance. He’s just putting the last suitcase down next to the front door when Bucky knocks.

He opens the door, Bucky’s hand still raised.

“I was just setting this down. I realize it looks like I was standing here waiting for you to knock, but I wasn’t.” God, that makes him sound desperately pathetic.

“I would have been flattered,” Bucky says, grinning easily at him. “You’re going to have to try pretty hard if you want me to be creeped out.”

“Because you’ve seen and heard it all?” Steve asks, his mood utterly tanked by his conversation with Sharon.

“No, because I like you so much. Are you okay?” he asks, peering into his face because Steve’s ducked away and hunched into himself, moving towards the kitchen.

“I don’t want to talk about it yet. Just, this,” he says, waving an arm vaguely towards the living room. He wants to be in Bucky’s arms and that’s apparently not appropriate here. Which is actually fine. Honestly. Now that he’s here, he has to admit it would feel a little weird to fool around with Bucky in this apartment. So, this is good. Respectable. Look how well that’s suited him so far.

He gets plates and silverware while Bucky puts the food out. “So, you’re already packed?” Bucky asks, like he can’t believe it.

“I grew up in the depression. As far as I’m concerned, I have a lot of things.”

“Fair enough.” Bucky puts a large piece of lasagna on his plate and pushes the rest of the container towards Steve. Steve eats a few bites.

“Well, hell. Maybe we didn’t eat there because it wasn’t very good.” And oddly enough, it’s kind of the last straw. It’s just the final thing he thought he knew and understood and it turns out he didn’t have a fucking clue about and he can’t take it anymore. He shoves to his feet, is going to go hide in the bathroom and cry his brains out.

“Stevie. It’s okay to be sad. It’d be weird if you weren’t. You can be sad on your own or you can be sad in here with me. Whatever you want.”

“I’m not a _child_, you know. No one wants someone constantly weeping and clinging at their skirts all the fucking time.”

“That’s not who you are. And, it won’t be _all the fucking time_.” Bucky gets up from the table, takes a drink of water and then moves to the living room. He looks at the couch and then goes to sit in the chair. He spreads his legs, hands on his thighs. “There’s a very nice expanse of floor right here.”

It’s a horrible temptation and if he doesn’t reject it immediately he’s going to throw himself down there, cry himself dry and never fucking move. He looks towards the bathroom, hates the idea of crying in there. He even thinks of his closet, and the idea of going back to that so quickly, of needing to be that isolated repulses him. He doesn’t want to be that pathetic. And, he doesn’t want to be away from Bucky.

“She said if she stayed with me any longer, she’d have hated me. What if you hate me, too?”

“That’s not even possible.”

“You don’t know that. I’m a stubborn asshole. People _hated_ me growing up. You look at me and you see exactly what she did. How I look now. This is all a lie. This isn’t me.”

“Your men loved you. Everyone who’s had a chance to know you, respects you and admires you. You’re incredible, even if you don’t see it right now. No one is perfect, not even heroes.”

“You’ll be disappointed.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Don’t lie to yourself just because you want to fuck me. I’m a mess and you know it.”

Bucky meets his gaze. “Yeah, you are a mess. I am aware and I want to be in it with you while you get yourself figured out. People are messy and fucked up. But, you’re also a good boy and I know how to manage you when you misbehave. Now, come _here_.”

What wouldn’t he give for that to be true? For it to be that easy. He puts his hand around his stomach, sees Bucky hone in on the gesture. “She thinks I’m suicidal. That if she broke up with me I’d kill myself,” he says, and doesn’t move.

“Are you suicidal?” he asks, like it isn’t a big deal. As if he’s asking if Steve likes books or movies.

“I don’t know. No…. I don’t want to be. I don’t actively want to die. There just wasn’t much to make the effort of surviving for. But, she felt like she couldn’t leave me. I made her miserable. What if you feel the same way?” 

“I won’t let that happen,” he says, sounding certain. “_Come_ here.”

“You don’t _know_ that!”

“Actually, I do. Do you want to go get a tissue and come back here?”

“No. I don’t want to cry anymore,” Steve says, horrified to realize he’s been wiping his face on his sleeves. Crying. Always the fucking crying.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks, innocently.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“That’s not an option,” Bucky says, quietly. Trying to be nice. Very convinced it isn’t going to happen. Able to say no to Steve. To watch him in misery and not give him something that will make him feel good. Of course.

“I hate you. Just go then.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a child,” Bucky says, oh so calmly. He looks down at his leg, brushes his fingers over the knee, gets rid of a piece of lint.

“I’m not a child.”

“Do you hate me?” Bucky asks, eyes gray and still. Like the ocean at dawn. Flat and quiet. Observant. Steve paces away from him, unable to take the intensity. He just needs a moment to get himself together.

Steve wants to throw something. Himself, if he could. Is there some way he can not feel sick, pathetic and like all he does is fuck things up?

_I hate you._

Steve looks back, but can’t make himself look higher than Bucky’s knee. The metal hand on his thigh. Steve’s lower lip is trembling and he doesn’t try to hide it. He fucked up. “I shouldn’t have said it. That was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

“Come here and apologize then.”

Steve goes to him, drops to his knees in front of him, presses his face into Bucky’s groin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, muffled. He opens his mouth, panting into Bucky’s groin, able to feel him getting hard. He turns his head, mouthing at him through his clothes.

Bucky grabs him by the hair, lifting his head. Steve gasps in shock. “My cock is a reward for good behavior. Naughty boys don’t get to throw a tantrum and then get a treat.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve says.

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“M-mas— _Bucky_. I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“No more master. We’re done with that one now. Try again,” Bucky growls, releasing him. His scalp burns and his balls throb warningly. Just from this. He takes a breath, tries to think. The urge to come is intense, but it’s surface level, it’s want, under that is need. It’s something frantic and desperate and he can’t even describe it or articulate it, it’s just churning inside of him and making his heart pound and his palms sweat and Bucky is the answer, but he can’t even ask the question.

“I’m sorry… sir,” he whispers, heart pounding. “I don’t have anything else. I’m sorry. I am,” he begs.

Bucky putsa hand on his head, presses Steve’s face into his leg. “You do have something else. You have more to give to me. Close your eyes until you find it.”

He squeezes his eyes tight, swallows down a sob. Panic rises. He can’t make sense of how he feels. There aren’t words. It needs to be actions. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s leg, tries to go for his cock again, but Bucky stops him.

Steve sags against him. He isn’t getting it his way. “I just need to know you want me. Really want me. I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want. I’ve told you everything, I want to give you everything and you keep… please don’t be here because you think I’m pathetic.”

“Good boy. Stevie, you know that isn’t it. I understand you want it all immediately. And I know that feeling anything besides the misery of a failed relationship is appealing. We’ll get there. But, this isn’t going to get you what you want. You won’t goad me into fucking you.”

“What can I goad you into doing?” he asks, licking his lips. Bucky looks, scowls at Steve and the sense of victory, that reminder that Bucky wants him makes everything okay. Bucky is hard in his pants, Steve can see it, an feel it in the way he’s holding himself back, carefully aloof. One of them needing to stay calm.

“Beg you for. I don’t even know, sir. Bucky,” he says, reaching for Bucky’s pants, hands shaking as he gets them unbuttoned. He pulls down the zipper. “I might not even be gay.”

He risks a glance at Bucky. Bucky is trying to look stern but one corner of his mouth twitches up. “Yes, I think there’s a very good chance this is just a bit of confusion and it’ll all clear up in the morning.”

“Exactly. Don’t I need to know? You can help me… sir?” he asks, practically smug, as he puts his hands in the waistband of Bucky’s boxer briefs. They’re a dark gray color and he kisses his stomach, inching them lower, as he frantically kisses and sucks his skin.

“God, you smell so fucking good. Please, please fuck my face.”

“As punishment?” Bucky asks, and lifts his hips so Steve can pull down his boxers and his pants. He gets them down to Bucky’s knees, wanting to kiss his thighs, desperate to get his mouth on his balls and his cock, to see as he much as he can, be surrounded by him.

“Oh,” Steve says, positive he’s never seen anything more perfect. Bucky’s cock is bigger than average, bigger than his favorite dildo, potentially a smidge wider, too. Width. Oh god, the width. It’s flushed a dark red and even though Bucky clearly keeps things smart in the personal grooming department, there is no mistaking that Bucky is a man, Bucky has hair where Steve waxes religiously and he wants to rub his face on his balls, in the crease of his thigh and just be surrounded by him.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks him, smiling and certain of the answer, Steve realizes. He wonders what his face looks like, if he happens to have a Christmas morning sort of stunned wonder thing going on, because Bucky chuckles and runs his finger along Steve’s bottom lip.

Steve groans, moving to get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. Bucky stops him. Another hand in the hair. “What did I tell you about naughty boys getting cock?”

Horror goes through him. He pulls against Bucky’s grip, desperate to taste him, suck him into his mouth so he can convince Bucky to let this happen. Bucky doesn’t let him go. Steve’s eyes burn. The tears come fast. It’s not just his scalp. It’s the certainty that this isn’t going to happen, after all. “Your pants. And… you’re hard. Why did you let me if I can’t? This is too much,” he pleads. His voice doesn’t even sound right. One would think he’d been stabbed or tortured from how wounded he sounds. This is betrayal. “You don’t want me. If you were my… sir, you’d let me. You don’t care about me.”

“Who says I’d be sweet to you if I was your sir? That doesn’t sound right to me. You make me really hard, baby. Even when you’re naughty and stubborn and awful. Even when you tell me you hate me and even when you try to manipulate me. You make me _really fucking hard._ Can you remember that? Lay back,” he orders.

Steve hesitates so Bucky moves, off of the chair, Steve scrambling backwards a few paces as Bucky climbs up his body. He straddles Steve’s chest with his thighs and Steve touches his legs, uncertain. His fingers open and close on Bucky’s warm skin, thumbs brushing over his leg hair. So different from a woman. So good.

“Your hands can stay right there. Your head is to stay on the floor. If you lift your head off the floor. At _all_. Even for a moment, I’ll put you in a cock cage. Do you understand?”

“Fuck, I— I’m sorry, sir. Bucky. I’m sorry,” he pleads, lips dry, cock absolutely throbbing. He’s leaking copiously in his underwear, enough that it almost feels like he’s come already, except he’s never been this hard. His legs spread, needing any space at all that he can get, relieving the pressure on his balls. Bucky fists his cock, staring into Steve’s eyes as he starts to jerk himself off.

“Please. Please, can I? I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No. I’m going to come all over you and then you’ll be forgiven. Your punishment is not getting to _help_ me come. You don’t get to make it happen. It’s me doing this myself when it should be your hand or your mouth or your hole, taking care of me. You’re a good boy and you’re supposed to take care of me, aren’t you?”

Steve whimpers. Bucky’s right. He’s right. Steve has let him down.“Please, I’m so sorry. _Daddy_, I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s grin is feral. Steve realizes what he’s said. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Good boys help their daddy’s, don’t they?”

Tears spill down his cheeks again, and it’s all so much that he has to turn his face away for just a second. He kisses Bucky’s thigh. Opens his mouth to taste any bit of him he can get. He can’t have that word between them and look Bucky in the face.

“You can try again tomorrow. This is what’s happening tonight. Daddy is going to take care of himself now.” Steve tries to help, desperate to apologize and be good. He does want to be good. So fucking badly. He needs Bucky to know that he’s sorry. That it was a mistake and he can do better. That’s the most important thing. More important than words.

“Look at you, getting my leg all wet. It’s a damned tragedy you misbehaved, isn’t it? Here you go, get that mouth to work somewhere more helpful. A for effort, baby.”

Bucky lifts up, moves closer, his cock, his balls, the dark shadow of his crack hovering over Steve’s face. “Daddy,” he says, blushing and hating it, knowing for certain that’s what Bucky wants him to say. His fingers dig into Bucky’s thighs, urging him closer. He’ll say it, he’ll say anything at this point to get more. “Daddy, please? I’m sorry.” God, he sounds like he’s hyperventilating, he sounds desperate.

“I just want to smell you. I don’t even have to taste you. I promise. I won’t if you don’t want me to,” he says, on the edge of some sort of emotional ruin, a horrible revelation that this is, in fact, who he really is, a desperately needy boy who will beg and take any scrap he can from his daddy.

And love it. Worship it, if he can. Bucky’s cock is close above him, Bucky’s balls on his face, and he presses his nose into the delicate skin.He’s so warm and earthy. He tries to pull Bucky down onto his face and Bucky laughs, resisting the pull and it takes everything in him to not use his strength and just force his daddy down. He cries out in frustration, forces his arms to relax. Only take what’s being given. Daddy will decide. But, he’s just so fucking close. That’s the tragedy of it all.

Everything he wants is literally in his face and he can’t have it. There’s nothing more cruel than this.

He tries to turn into him, press kisses against his skin, closer and closer, further and further back and Bucky raises up again, stares down at Steve with a pleased, almost proud expression.

“Tell daddy what you really want, Steve.”

He swallows. “I just… you.”

“In that case, I’ll finish up like this and you can see. If that’s all you want.”

“No, I… on my _face_. Daddy.”

Bucky runs his finger along Steve’s lips and Steve kisses it, tries to suck it into his mouth. “Then I’ll let you feel my balls on your face while I come. How’s that? And you’ll keep your mouth closed.”

Devastated. He just is. And trapped. Emotionally or something. He turns his head, it’s all too much. “Poor babydoll. I see you, sweetheart. So, I’m going to ask you again what you want. It’s not a trick. I might even give it to you.”

Steve risks a glance at him, looking for the lie. He trusts him. Bucky will take care of him. Because…. “Daddy’s are nice to their boys,” he whispers.

“That’s right. And I’m inclined to be nice to you. Because you’re so wonderful and you’ve had a tough day and you’re being so good. I can see how much you need it. I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t hide from daddy. But, if you don’t ask me, don’t use your words, I won’t give it to you….”

“You said you were punishing me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “This isn’t punishment? You’re crying and squirming and desperate. Begging me, giving in. This isn’t punishment?”

Steve licks his lips. “I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. Bucky touches his own cock and Steve stares longingly at it. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“I know, good boy. Now ask me.”

He pleads with him silently, thumbs rubbing Bucky’s legs, gently. He wants to ask, to beg for it, but it’s beyond him. 

“Sweetheart. Look at those fucking tears. You’re so beautiful,” he says, and it’s more than his exterior, it’s his tears and his mouth and how he begs. Somehow, Bucky makes him feel that without saying it.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Why do you want to eat my ass, Steve?”

Steve goes very still at hearing it aloud. He’s prey that doesn’t know how to run.

“Is it because that’s what you want? Is that why you bleach and wax and make sure it’s as good as it can be? Because you want someone to love it as much as you do? Is that where you need daddy to show you love?”

He nods once, all he can manage and Bucky makes a soothing sound and lowers himself, parts his cheek as he settles on Steve’s face and Steve arches his neck, wanting to be deep and in and surrounded.

He’s frantic with it. This is it. His act of devotion, the most shameful, intimate thing he can think of and now Bucky knows that he loves it, everything about it, that this is his weakness, the very heart of him, the most perverted and deviant thing about him.

He comes, pressing his tongue flat against Bucky’s hole, spilling into his pants without even a hand on himself. He tilts his hips, wanting at least the fabric of his pants to help him ride it out.

“There you go. There’s my good boy.” He feels Bucky’s balls shift, the tension in his legs as he gets ready to come. He doesn’t stop worshipping his daddy. “I’ll always give you what you need, Steve. All you have to do is ask. I’m regularly tested and I haven’t been with anyone in three months. Do you want to swallow my come?”

Steve mumbles a desperate yes into Bucky’s damp hole and Bucky pulls back. Steve opens his mouth. Waits. He looks from Bucky’s big, hard cock to his face, the lust in his eyes. The intensity.

“Jesus, you’re so perfect, baby. Fuck, I can’t wait. Here you go,” he grunts, and the first rope of it hits Steve’s mouth. His tongue. He jerks under Bucky like he’s been prodded with an electric wire. It’s hot and there’s more, before he can reconcile what’s really happening, it’s flooding his mouth and he has to swallow or lose it, let it spill. He swallows.

Bucky finishes, strips his cock, a last bit of come dangling from the tip. “How about one lick for my good boy?”

“Please?”

“Go ahead. One lick. Get that last bit of your daddy in your mouth.”

Steve swallows again and then extends his tongue, determined not to lift his head until he’s been given permission.

“Very good,” Bucky says, as Steve gets the drop and swallows it. “Beautiful, Steve.” Bucky pets his hair and Steve closes his eyes, a shiver running through him, like he hasn’t quite finished coming. Bucky is a heavy weight on his chest. Steve’s hands fall to the ground. He opens his eyes, coming back to himself.

“Oh fuck. My pants are wet. I came in my pants,” he says, stunned at how easily it happened.

“Really? When?” he asks, like he doesn’t fucking know.

“Um, when I had my mouth on you.” How is that possible? It was all just so overwhelming.

Bucky grins. “And how was it? Your first mouth full of come and ass?”

“I obviously hated it,” he says, dryly, running his hands up and down Bucky’s thighs. “I’m sorry I said I hated you and acted a little… _bratty._ I shouldn’t have said that.” How mortifying to not only use that word and that know that it applies to him. That he was. A brat.

Bucky buttons his pants. “You’re okay, sweetheart. It was a long day. You acted out. That’s what good boys do.”

“Don’t lie,” he says, and suddenly he wonders if this is what Sharon felt. That constant uncertainty that the person you’re intimate with is lying to you. It’s awful.

Bucky meets his gaze. “I’m not. You said not nice things and you misbehaved, but it’s good that you needed an outlet and you let it be me. You didn’t run away or hide. You let me see and you shared that with me. I didn’t actually think you hated me. That’s what makes you my good boy,” he says, cupping Steve’s cheek in his hand. “You needed to be taken care of and you let it be me.”

“Okay. Yes, sir,” he whispers, feeling better. Sir doesn’t sound right. But, come on. He turns his head to kiss Bucky’s hand. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to say that. Call you that. Master doesn’t work. But, I guess I was just trying the other one out and you seemed like you liked it, but—” Steve is blushing so hard. He realizes Bucky is trying not to laugh. “_What?_”

“Nothing,” Bucky says, giving in, his laugh so annoyingly charming it makes Steve smile. “It’s adorable how hard you’re fighting it. I kind of hope you keep it up. See when you say it next.”

He turns his head away, a little annoyed, mostly embarrassed. “I’m not going to say it again.”

“You’re just saying that to make me hard.”

“Really? Does that work?” Steve asks.

There’s a knock on the door. “Who the fuck is that?” Steve demands, shoving Bucky off of him. Which, because he’s a super soldier means he lands on his butt two feet away.

“Shit! Sorry!”

“Steve? You okay in there,” Tony calls, from outside the door.

“Oof. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Just a minute!” Steve yells.

Bucky sorts his pants out, Steve runs to the bathroom and wipes at his face, checks his hair and his clothes. He doesn’t look like he just had the most intense, amazing and deviant sexual experience of his life.

Steve goes past Bucky, perfect after what they’ve done. The only indication that they did anything is the pink in his face. Cheeks flushed from his recent orgasm. God, he’s so fucking hot. He sighs. Counts to five and then opens the door. Tony is still standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

“And hello to you, too. Pepper is drinking with Maria and Sharon. She said it was over. They were worried you’d be a bit, you know, _you_,” he says, because he’s a dick. He wanders into the apartment, looking around. Stops when he sees Bucky. 

“Oh, who are you?” Tony asks, pointing obnoxiously at Bucky. Like he has every right to ask.

Bucky stands up. “I was just getting ready to head out,” he says, seriously. In a determined sort of way.

“I’m Tony,” he says, holding out a hand, clearly not wanting to let Bucky go without getting more information.

“James. Nice to meet you.” He heads towards the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, walking rather quickly. Something inside Steve plummets, nerves make him follow.

“Just a, uh, second,” he says, to Tony and follows him to the door. And out the door. He closes it to give them privacy.

“You’re going?” Steve asks, arms folded. He realizes just how much his mouth tastes like come. His body is seriously contemplating getting hard again.

Bucky smiles at him like he’s done something cute. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m going to go. You have your friend, he’ll get you through tonight and let’s talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. So, you want to go. You seem relieved.”

“Then you’re reading it wrong. I definitely don’t _want_ to go. But, I was on the verge of asking you to stay at my place and that’s just… there’s moving fast and then there’s crazy. So, I’m relieved to be spared my baser impulses. I have zero common sense when it comes to you.”

“Fucking Tony,” Steve mutters, Bucky’s comments making him feel warm inside. “You, um, do you have a spare bedroom?” he asks, blushing.

“No. And my couch is _very_ uncomfortable,” he says, eyeing Steve’s mouth. He comes closer, puts one hand near Steve’s head on the door, the metal one, not that he’s becoming weirdly obsessed with it or anything, and the other one slides down Steve’s chest. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. I’m glad it isn’t a temptation.”

Steve groans. “I don’t even _like_ Tony. Let me send him away. I’d much rather go with you.”

“You almost asked your girlfriend to marry you today. We’ve done enough.”

“That was me being an idiot. I’m over it. In fact, I promise I will never, _ever_ ask another woman to marry me. I’m totally, 100% gay.”

“Well, congratulations. I think.”

“How big is your bed?” he asks, reaching for Bucky’s sweater.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He moves in then, kisses Steve gently, and then more firmly. “Keep your hands on the door so it doesn’t get out of control. _Wait_.” He pulls back, takes out his phone, sets his timer for a minute and then puts it in his pocket.

“A minute?” That’s bullshit.

“Yeah, now keep your hands on the doorframe.”

“But, I want to touch you,” Steve gasps, as Bucky kisses his jaw and his neck, nibbles and mouth just under his ear and he presses his hips forward, rubbing himself against Bucky. Hard. “Daddy,” he breathes.

The timer is defective and beeps almost immediately.

Bucky gives him a last kiss on the forehead. His voice is rough. “You’re my good boy.”

They say good night and Steve goes back inside. To Tony. Ugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... i guess this is taking it slow? sometimes one gets a big gift on hanukah? maybe?


	7. Chapter 7

Steve winds up agreeing to stay the night at Stark Tower. He’d gone back into the apartment and Tony had very studiously not looked him in the eyes for a good few minutes. It made him wonder if perhaps they’d been a little loud.

He wasn’t going to ask. Tony didn’t bring it up. It was a result he could live with. He immediately went into the bathroom and cleaned up as best he could. He finally just took his underwear off and decided this was further proof that his rigorous manscaping was the way to go.

He can’t stop himself from thinking about it, replaying it in his mind as he deals with the mess. He positively stinks of come and sex and if it had been with Sharon he’d be in the shower already, scrubbing madly with a loofah. Now he wants to go to bed.

If he had a bed.

If Tony wasn’t here, he fears he might just lay down and stew in it. Rub his own come into himself, god maybe even his hole, pretending it was Bucky’s come as he worked it inside.

He’d known he’d like…rimming. God, he’s someone who rims and has rimmed. It’s no longer a weird fantasy, it’s part of his identity. He can claim that now. He clenches at just imagining getting it in return. A tongue back there, pressing into him, forcing its way inside as his body gives and he begs for more. Bucky would tell him how good he tasted, how pretty he was, he’d open Steve up and _live_ inside him. He brushes a finger gently against his hole, half lost in how fucking hot it all is and it’s startling enough that it brings him back to himself.

Fingers at his hole are a constant struggle. The moment he gets back there, he practically loses time, just can’t stop touching himself. He tries not to do it. He’s hyper-vigilant against it. He lets his hand drop.

That is not conducive to going back out to his former living room. He’d known it appealed to him on a dirty hot sort of level but he hadn’t thought it would make him come. Like, who does that?

It’s actually embarrassing. If he’d come from a tongue on his hole, he might not be all that surprised, but doing it to someone else? The first touch? No build up, not in response to anything just his tongue against Bucky’s hole and he came.

God, what if Sharon knew. He can imagine it—‘I know we went to therapy because I’m impotent, but actually it’s just that I’m really fucking gay.’

And, Bucky knows he came from it. How much Steve loves it. What will Bucky do with that information? How will Bucky use it against him? Bucky might tease him about it, taunt him, make him do it. Bucky better not deny him, though.

He wants more. He wants everything immediately. He just needs to find a way to break Bucky down and get the hell on with things.

Like, cockwarming was one of those things he’d read about and thought seemed kind of hot, but it wasn’t something he fantasized about. He gets it now. On the ground, between Bucky’s legs, patient, surrounded by the heat and scent of his daddy. It’s definitely something he wants to try as soon as possible. He does not jerk off again. He looks at himself in the mirror. He just looks super annoyed at life. He could be with Bucky right now, in his apartment and his bed, wearing down Bucky’s resolve, but no. He’s here. Damn Tony.

He goes back out.

Steve finished eating while Tony tried to ask him about the breakup and who James was, and Steve ignored the questions about Bucky but did answer a few of the ones about Sharon.

“It’s for the best,” he says, at one point. “She’s a really good person and deserves better.”

Tony scoffs. “You’re a good person. You deserve to be happy too. Just because she’s nice doesn’t mean she’s great to be in a relationship with, I mean, Jesus, she was _spying_ on you.”

“Yeah, my therapist thought that wasn’t great, either.”

“You really are a martyr.” Tony says, as if it’s a bad thing to sacrifice for the greater good.

“I just try to resist my more selfish instincts,” he says, getting up from the table.

“Wait. Was that an insult?”

Steve ignores him, puts the dishes in the machine. He is now an ass-eating martyr. It sounds like he’s moving up in the world.

They packed up the leftovers and Steve threw them out, even though it went against everything he believed in to throw away good food, but he could well imagine Sharon would take it as some kind of a passive aggressive gesture if he put it in the fridge. Like a bag of shit on her doorstep or something.

He was shown into ‘his’ apartment at 10:30, unpacked by 10:45 and definitely exhausted. He took a shower and didn’t jerk off. He isn’t quite sure why, he’s half hard from thinking of Bucky, but… somehow it doesn’t feel right.

He’s also doing a good job mentally staying away from the word daddy. There are connotations to the word. Expectations. Thinking it makes him blush and increases the ache in his skin that goes away when Bucky touches him. He brushes and flosses, does a grooming check, more to reassure himself than anything else, and heads to the bedroom. Bucky’s scarf is there. His phone shows a message.

_Give me a call if you want to say goodnight._

Well, yeah, of course he does. He throws the covers back, gets into bed and reaches for Bucky’s scarf. It smells like his cologne and Steve finds himself fully hard before Bucky has even picked up the phone.

“How is the new place?” Bucky asks.

“Unnecessarily complicated, like most things Tony does. The ceilings talk, I’ll never figure out how to make a cup of coffee. But, the bed is comfortable. I don’t want to stay here, but it was nice for him to come and get me and put me up,” he says, almost sullenly.

“You can repay him by having him over for a meal when you’re settled into your new place.”

“Why the hell would I want to do that? He’s rude and defensive and he gets all pissed off because his dad was obsessed with the serum.”

Bucky sighs. “Well, he’s a co-worker and he’s made an overture of friendship and you don’t have a lot of them. Maybe if you were nice to him, he wouldn’t be such a dick.”

Steve grunts. He does _not _feel the urge to grumpily say ‘yes daddy.’

“So, you’re in bed,” Bucky says.

“Um, yes,” he says, pressing his face into the scarf.

“What are the chances you have my scarf?”

“Very good,” he says, pressing the scarf over his eyes. He’s hot and hard with embarrassment at the confession. He’s by himself. What’s the fucking problem? Who is he hiding from?

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Just… underwear. Boxer briefs. Blue. Navy,” he says.

“Out of curiosity, how do you feel about the fact that I know private things about you because of our therapy sessions? Like figging or your penchant for everything anal.”

“I don’t have a _penchant_ for everything anal. I’ve never even done anything with someone else before.” He pauses, wanting his displeasure to be known. Bucky waits him out. “Fine. I’m glad, I _guess, _that you know things.”

“If I know what you want, I’ll give it to you. Do you really want to be defensive? Don’t you want me to make you feel as good as you made me feel?”

No, he doesn’t want to be defensive. He just doesn’t know how to behave any differently. “Sorry,” he says, curling onto his side. His annoyance seeps away, he lets his voice soften, slips his hand between his legs. Close to his hole. “I….” Apparently honesty is the way to go and he forces himself to say it, “I do like the idea of you knowing everything about me. I love it, it’s just hard to make it reality. And, I love the idea of you knowing what I need, when even I don’t know for sure.”

“Like waiting to have sex.”

“No. _Not_ like that,” he says, annoyed again. What a jerk.

“You want me to know everything?” Bucky asks, and maybe if he was with him, Bucky would have kissed him in response to Steve’s outrage. He thinks he would have. He hopes so.

“You should kiss me when I’m annoyed.”

“I don’t know if we’d ever do anything else.”

“Ha ha,” he says, grumpily.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I think you need a lot of kisses,” he murmurs.

“I—” Ugh. It’s hard to confess. He presses the scarf harder into his face. “I do. I’d give you everything and when I don’t want to, I just want you to take it. You should know everything. If you want to.” He tries to think of an exception. He supposes there are some embarrassing stories from his youth of him being an outcast or getting the shit kicked out of him. He could do with never thinking about those things again. And Bucky knowing them isn’t something he’d be overjoyed about.

“I want to. What’s the worst thing I could say to you?”

“That I failed you,” he says, because that’s easy.

“I wouldn’t ever say that. As long as you try then it isn’t failing. And, I know you well enough to know you always try.”

“Okay,” he says, quietly. He tries spreading out the scarf on the other pillow and hugs it to him like it’s a body. He lets go. He’s pathetic.

“Tomorrow. I think you should come over here for dinner.”

“Are you actually going to feed me?”

“Yes. You’ll need your strength.”

“God, that better not be a joke. Will you… tomorrow?” he whispers, scarf in his hand and on his chest.

He can hear Bucky inhale. “Why?”

“What do you mean _why?_ I want to know what it’s like. I want you to be the one to do it. I’m horny. _Normal_ _reasons_.”

“Settle down,” he says, laughing. “I just wanted to make sure it was something you wanted for yourself instead of something you were just doing to try to and make me happy.”

“No, I definitely want it. I think you know that and you want me to beg.”

His sigh is slower, like he might be getting off on the idea of Steve begging. “Beautiful boy. No, I’m sorry. I’m not going to fuck you tomorrow night. I’m just not. But, we’re both going to come. And I’m going to touch you and kiss you. But, you have to choose. Tits, ass or cock? When daddy plays with you tomorrow night, where do you need him?”

“Oh my god. You can’t say that,” he says, hand on his cock. He slides it down to his balls, rubs behind them, along his perineum. _Tits_, he called them. Steve looks at his chest. Bucky has no idea how right that is. Between the winter clothes and his uniform, his pecs aren’t all that noticeable.

“Where do you want my touch? You have to choose.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I want to give it the proper attention. Tell me where you need it. The hungriest part of you. I won’t stop loving on you until you beg me to stop. But, you have to choose one.”

“Oh. _Daddy_. You know. I— my bottom.” He’s an idiot. Bottom. The earth needs to swallow him whole.

“Which part, babydoll? Those perfect cheeks of yours or is it your pretty pink hole?”

“How do you know it’s pink?” he asks. And then he remembers Sharon mentioning what she’d found when she went through his things. “Do you think it’s weird that I have… that and want it to look nice?”

“No, I can’t wait to see it. I bet it’s so fucking pretty, Stevie,” he says, voice low. His breathing has changed. “God, I’m touching myself just thinking about it.”

“About… my hole?” he asks, voice weak.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know.” He spreads his legs, imagines Bucky telling him to show him, get himself on display.

“Can I touch myself?” he asks, shyly.

“So long as you keep your fingers off that pretty hole. I want it hungry for me.”

“What? But, I want to. If we’re talking about it, I need to touch it,” he confesses. “That’s not fair,” he says, gripping his ass cheek but not straying lower.

“No, baby. That’s mine. You’re going to save it for me. I bet you’re going to be so fucking excited to show it to me, aren’t you?”

“But, I—” Bucky doesn’t understand is all. How much Steve loves being touched there. It’s not normal. It’s excessive. He shouldn’t feel like crying just because his daddy told him to keep his hands off.

“What is it, baby? Can’t you wait for daddy? I’ll make it up to you. Can you hold on and let me have it? Save your hole for me? Just one more night?”

“Yes, daddy.” His heart is pounding and it feels like it’s filling up his throat he’s so nervous and excited about it. “You’ll… finger me?”

“Stevie, do you think you’ll be shy about it?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Do you want me to?” he shoves off the blankets. It’s way too hot.

“I want you to be honest with me. That’s all.”

“I think I might be shy, but I want you to see it, anyway. And, god I want your fingers in me so bad,” he says, the words coming out in a rush.

“How many?” Bucky asks, voice a growl.

“Three, daddy. God, I want three fingers inside me,” he says, whimpering, not just because it’s true but because Bucky is jerking off to the idea of fingering him. “You’ll love it, daddy. I promise. It’s perfect.” 

“There’s my confident boy. You’re going to make me come if you keep that up. I think that sweet, little hole of yours is going to be good to me. I might never leave, baby. Get inside you and that’s it.”

“I hope so. I try, daddy.”

“I know, baby. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m going to dream about you and that perfect hole. Just a home for your daddy’s cock and— fuck— my fingers and my mouth.”

“Please, _come_, daddy. Please,” he gasps, working that area behind his balls so hard. It feels so good, gets everything so hot and aroused inside him. It tugs gently on his hole if he does it right. If he uses the flat of his palm and gets enough area then it isn’t just sensation near his hole, but it’s his wrist working his balls, his cock bumping his stomach, so fucking hard and tight that he can make it lift too, and it starts to hurt, right before he comes, too much so he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it, but can’t bring himself to stop. It’s a deep orgasm and he goes faster, harder, rubbing it out frantically. He moans.

“Thinking about my fingers in that pretty hole?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Daddy, can I come?” he asks. Has no idea what he’ll do if the answer is no. Could he stop?

“Of course you can, if you ask like that. Let me hear you, though. Press your face into daddy’s scarf while you come.”

“I am,” he gasps. “Daddy I am. I just want you here, I need you.” He comes hard, endlessly spilling onto his chest and stomach.

Bucky groans, swears and Steve imagines him coming, head back, teeth gritted, imagines a huge spill of come that his daddy lets him have.

“I came, daddy.”

“Good boy. God, Steve,” he says, and his breath falters.

“I’m really tired now, daddy.”

“Good boy. So am I. I’ll check in tomorrow about dinner. Text me if you want. If I can text between sessions I will. There’s always someone who’s running late, I just don’t know when.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Who?”

“Goodnight, _daddy_.”

“There’s my good boy,” he says, the echo of it putting Steve to sleep.

***

Steve gets up in the morning, goes on a run, comes back to the apartment and cannot, for the life of him, figure out how to work the fucking coffee maker. There are even beans. Which he has to get from one state to the next and that isn’t clear, either.

At this point, he’d take some god damned chestnuts. Someone knocks on his door. It’s probably Tony. How does he handle Tony _and_ no coffee? It’s Pepper.

“Steve, how are you?” she says, unbearably polite. There are dark circles under her eyes.

“How are you holding up after the drinks?” he asks.

“Medium. I was going to get a coffee and I thought you might like to go.”

“I don’t have a lot of time,” he says, as an out.

“Apartment hunting?”

“Maybe.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Really? You don’t want me to stay here?”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here, but I have the feeling you’d go crazy fairly quickly.”

“The windows don’t open,” he says, because it’s true, annoying and even he isn’t a big enough dick to tell Pepper he wants to leave because her boyfriend drives him insane.

She smiles. “It’s also very high up.”

“True. And, I’m not sure I want to be this… social.”

“That side of things isn’t too bad. Natasha’s here a few days a week, Clint is here for around one week every few months, Bruce is either here or gone for ages and Thor is very loud when he’s here and then there are lots of electrical surges and things short out and that’s really a good time to be elsewhere. Tony goes bananas.”

“Why doesn’t he have him leave?”

She shrugs. “Tony likes having people he cares about close by. He just complains about it and then fixes everything after he goes. He’s taking it as a challenge now. Just a chance to upgrade things. Coffee?”

“Yeah. That’d be great. Let me grab my shoes and coat.” He grabs his things, including Bucky’s scarf and heads back out to the living room. She looks at him and blinks, peers a little closer.

“Is that a Yves Saint Laurent scarf?”

He puts his hand to it protectively. “I don’t… maybe?”

She touches the fabric. “Cashmere, too. Well, I’m impressed.”

“It’s not actually mine. It’s a friend’s.”

“It’s lovely. Very stylish.” It’s gray and very soft. And warm. He’s not sure how that makes it stylish. He spots the YSL stitched into the material at one corner in matching gray thread. Subtle.

“Wait. How much is this thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five hundred dollars?”

“Who the fuck buys a five hundred dollar _scarf?”_

“Maybe you should leave it behind then. Your friend might not want you to wear their scarf out.”

Steve frowns. Touches the material. He’s not taking it off. Worse case scenario is he’ll buy another obscenely expensive scarf for Bucky to replace this one. Maybe he can pay it off in sexual favors. “It’s fine. He won’t care.”

Pepper raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. They leave the apartment and take the elevator down. Stop at the entrance of the building. “Starbucks, Pete’s or somewhere else?”

“Pete’s,” he says, because he remember Bucky mentioning it and he still hasn’t been there. He’s sick of not knowing what people are talking about. They head out. It’s cold. He presses his nose into the scarf, tucks his hands in his pocket.

“So, how is Sharon?” he asks.

Pepper’s nose is pink. “Do you want the honest answer or the comforting answer?”

“Honest?”

“She’s fine. Funnily enough, she just got an offer from the CIA for a very cool job in Berlin. I think she’s going to take it.”

“Really? That’s… timing.”

“I don’t know anybody who had anything to do with it. My money would be on Maria but she’s sad at the idea of Sharon leaving so I don’t know. Maybe it is just coincidence. Okay, what kind of place are you looking for?”

“Something available immediately. Ideally two bedrooms. Nice bathroom. Ideally large and remodeled,” he says, thinking of his enemas and how nice it would be to have his own space to take care of his body. Maybe he is too vain. But, it isn’t just for him now, it’s for his daddy. “Brooklyn would be nice. I’d like… a patio or something. Maybe a yard.”

“Do you care about how much it costs?”

“Um, no. I’ve got a lot of money and I was kind of thinking it’d only be for a year or so,”he says, wondering if maybe, somehow that would be long enough where maybe he and Bucky could move in together. On one hand, a year isn’t that long. On the other hand, a year sounds impossible.

“Did you know Pete’s and Starbucks started out together?”

He holds the door open for Pepper. “What do you mean?”

“I think they founded Starbucks, got into an argument and then one guy left and made Peet’s.”

“So, this is like the same thing?”

“You’ll get us lynched. Don’t say that where people can hear you.”

They get their drinks and a pastry and walk back to the tower. He likes talking to Pepper, she’s smart and easy to talk to. He can see why Tony likes her although he isn’t quite as sure what she gets out of it.

Pepper sends him a list of places and an agent picks him up and shows him three places. By 3 in the afternoon he has keys, his stuff and is staring at an empty apartment. Well, it’s furnished but it’s bland. His phone rings.

“Hey, how’s your day, baby?”

“Why do you have a five hundred dollar scarf?”

“What, did you lose it?”

“No,” he says, offended, at the very idea.

“I can afford it, it’s a little bit fetishistic on my part and I have a friend who works at the store who got me a discount.”

“Fetish, you say?” That definitely has his attention.

“The material is lovely, it goes around one’s neck, feels good against your skin. It’s a tactile thing. You should see my gloves.”

“Gloves?” he asks, sitting down on the couch. It’s too low. He makes a sound when he finally lands, surprised he didn’t hit the ground. “I got a new apartment and it’s furnished but this couch is ridiculous. Sorry, just didn’t want you to think I was moaning about gloves.”

“Oh. I was intrigued,” he says, sighing.

“Do you… wear both gloves?”

“I guess it depends on what the situation is. Why?” he asks, and Steve can’t figure out his tone of voice.

“I’m just wondering. We don’t have to talk about the arm. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, just wondering, you know do you have sensation? Can you get it wet?” Will you fuck me with your metal fingers?

“Yeah, and… I have like a silicone shell that can go on it. If it makes you uncomfortable. Which isn’t a big deal,” Bucky says. “It takes getting used to. I don’t mind wearing a shirt.”

Wait. What? “No. I have no desire for you to wear a shirt. At all. You think I won’t like it? Is that why you don’t touch me with it?”

“You never know,” he says, weirdly gentle.

“I don’t like the phone. I can’t see your face. I have no idea what you mean and it’s stressing me out. Are you trying to reassure me about the hand or should I reassure you? I just… shit, I just want to know if you’ll put your fingers in me. I _want_ the hand.” It’s very important he’s clear on that point.

“Well, it’s actually my arm.”

“I don’t think I can take your arm.”

Bucky laughs. “Well, you can experience what you want with the hand and I’ll bring the sleeve for it in case it isn’t your thing,” he says, in that easy tone. Steve is beginning to think the easy tone might be a lie. Something Bucky has practiced and honed.

“Daddy, are you worried I won’t like it?”

There’s a moment of quiet. “I just want to make sure you know it’s okay if you don’t.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I think it’s usually 50/50. Sometimes people don’t mind it and sometimes it makes them uncomfortable. It’s military grade and has a lot of sensors for vibrations and temperatures, that sort of thing. If you don’t like it, I’ll probably be able to tell, just from how you stiffen in my hold.”

“Then what?” he asks, weirdly emotional. Isn’t this from personal experience? Who has Bucky been with that hasn’t liked his arm? How dare they.

“Then I’ll put the sleeve on and you won’t have to worry about it again. And if that’s a problem then I’ll wear a shirt. And if it’s really a problem…. I guess we’ll deal with it.”

“The arm isn’t a problem. I don’t want a silicone sleeve and I want to feel you pressed against me. It isn’t an issue, daddy. At all.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I won’t hold you to it. I try very hard not to make promises when I don’t know the outcome for certain,” he says, almost chastising. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe that’s just how Steve is interpreting it. “I should go, my next appointment just walked in.”

“Let me send you my address and we can do dinner here. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine, but I know how to get to Stark tower.”

“That was so last night. I’m in a _new_, new place.”

“Oh. Well, great. I feel like there’s a story there.”

“I’ll see you tonight. But, daddy?”

His voice drops, he sounds fond, “What is it, baby?”

“I bought a metal dildo after our first appointment. I feel pretty confident in promising you that I like the arm and it isn’t going to be a fucking problem. Go tell someone else how to behave for a few hours.”

“Shit. I can’t believe I have to start this appointment with a hard on. God, I just want to fuck you so bad, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the suggestions! I've worked it out. i'm feeling villainously gleeful about it. it's so fucked up, y'all gonna die.
> 
> If you're waiting for Bucky's chapter, it isn't tomorrow. Sorry. I calculated wrong/story grew but it should be this weekendish.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Let's just get that out of the way. This chapter is almost 7k. Tomorrow picks up where this chapter leaves off and is probably another 7k. Where the chapter ends is the best place to cut it because I don't have enough prepared to give you 14k today and not wind up anxious and likely having to skip a day later. The story keeps getting longer, I think we all want it to get longer (cause what the fuck else are we doing besides avoiding our families and wishing desperately to leave the gd house?) so the chapter is ending where it's ending and IT'S A HORRIBLE PLACE TO END THE CHAPTER! It's smutus interruptus and maybe you want to wait to have the whole scene in one massive read and you don't read this til tomorrow, IDK. 
> 
> If it were me, I'd want the instant gratification and would then torture myself wanting the next post but I'd want to read it. So, that's why I'm posting it even though I feel like a jerk. I'm probably making it a bigger deal then it really is. Like, it's just a story, so I probably need to get over myself. I get obsessed with stories and feel like you all do too, but you know, this isn't like really important and won't really impact your day, either way. I don't even know how to get out of this explanation/apology so... yeah. 
> 
> It's not an angst cliffhanger. It's just smut.

Steve is meticulous in his preparations for Bucky. He doesn’t want anything to go wrong. Bucky won’t be able to find any fault with him. He bought candles, way too many candles, but he wants good lighting, so that even if something is wrong, and he doesn’t look as good as he’s promised, maybe Bucky won’t be able to tell. Maybe if there is something about his body Bucky doesn’t like, it will still be alright.

The moment he hung up the phone, his confidence fled. Not all at once but steadily, as the enormity of the evening settled in. He had to get food and didn’t know what Bucky liked. And he didn’t want to get something that would kill the mood or be messy to eat. And, it’s not like he’s an amazing cook.

And then there’s the fact that this will all be occurring in his home. Bucky was going to see Steve’s place. Be in it. They are going to do intimate things which Steve is really fucking desperate to do, on his furniture and in his bed.

He’d stared at his new bed and the bedding and how it all looked and it was all very, very bright. Fluorescent lighting. If there’s anything Bucky doesn’t like, he’s going to see it very clearly. Hence nipping back out to get candles. 

Then there’s the bathroom. It’s big, but it isn’t familiar and the lighting in there wasn’t great so although he’s pretty darn sure everything is immaculate, he might not be able to tell because the lighting sucks.

He’d done his enema and hadn’t gotten that floaty/good release feeling that he usually did, and he was not touching his hole because Bucky had told him not to, and he wasn’t jerking off because he was weirdly nervous and thought maybe he should save himself for Bucky, and it just means he is twitchy, grumpy and deeply uncertain about everything by the time Bucky gets there.

Steve just really wants it to go well. On one hand, he could say that they’re getting to know each other better, which is great and exciting. Or, on the other hand, one could say that there’s a very good chance that the more Bucky gets to know about Steve, the less he may want him. It has to go well.

He buzzes Bucky in at six on the dot. His excitement and nervousness, find a way to ramp up even more as Bucky comes up the stairs, oddly quiet for a large man, but he’s carrying something that makes noise so he can hear him. Why is he so quiet? From the military? Steve’s standing outside his door, barefoot, dressed in jeans and a white button down that’s open at the throat and slightly lower.

He’s hoping the outfit conveys a certain togetherness, but approachability… white for purity, barefoot for vulnerability. He’s put thought into it. He might look stupid. He doesn’t know. The jeans are way too fucking tight but his ass looks amazing. The shirt is Sharon approved which means it’s really tight and the collar is somehow slightly different than his old shirts but somehow means he looks modern. He just _doesn’t fucking know_. Maybe he should have gone inside and opened the door when Bucky knocked. Is he too eager? Then Bucky turns the corner, onto his floor and he breaks out into a huge smile at the sight of Steve.

All is well.

Steve feels that smile like it’s electrified, buzzing through all of his muscles and cells as Bucky closes the distance. “These are for you,” he says, handing him flowers. Steve takes them, clutching them with two hands, which interrupts the natural kiss/hug greeting he might have gotten. Shit.

“Oh, that’s so nice. Thank you. I’ve never gotten flowers like this.”

Bucky raises a brow.

“You know, you liberate a town, people throw flowers or hand you an egg or a beer or something, but this isn’t a few wildflowers tied with twine. They’re lovely,” he says, smelling them. He is pleased, he’s ridiculously pleased about it actually.

And Bucky is looking at Steve like he does look amazing. “No one has ever handed me an egg, or wildflowers with twine. Someone gave me a baby goat in Afghanistan.”

Steve is weirdly tongue tied as Bucky looks him up and down, closes the distance between them. This is different. Bucky is definitely advancing on him and Steve acutely feels the difference here of he is being wooed by Bucky and all the things Steve thought he was supposed to do on a date are not the same. It’s like he’s the girl or something. “Does this mean I’m the girl in the relationship?” he blurts out, because he’s breathless and trying to prove he’s not internally freaking out.

He wishes he could take it back.

“That sounds like a very strict gender dynamic,” Bucky says, crowding into Steve in the doorway. “Is that the sort of thing you want, sweetheart? Bring flowers for my girl and you cook me meals and get all pretty for me? Ready to take care of your man? I bet you’d be so fucking good for me, wouldn’t you?” he asks, voice low.

He presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw and Steve has to rest his weight against the frame, legs going weak at Bucky touching him and saying sweet things. Things that go too far and which he isn’t sure if he likes at all. _Pretty._ It’s just a word. He’s scared of what Bucky might read on his face. Steve slips away as soon as he can, going to the kitchen, his nerves about to consume him.

He doesn’t look back, just assumes Bucky makes it into his apartment. The flowers are an excuse and he goes to the kitchen, hunts around for something to put them in. He eventually settles on a large plastic cup and figures he can buy a vase tomorrow.

He takes a breath and turns around, ready to face Bucky. Hopefully. Bucky is in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, jacket off. Casual. He’s watching Steve. “Did I upset you?”

“No,” he says, and can feel the heat washing up his fair skin, giving him away.

“Tell me. How do I avoid doing it again if I don’t know what it is?”

“You don’t have to avoid anything. I just needed a minute to put the flowers away. I don’t have a vase and it’s annoying. That’s all.” Steve knows he sounds convincing.

“Okay,” Bucky says, letting it go. “Come here,” he says, softly and snags Steve by the arm, pulling him against him.

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be so… forward. Uh, that makes me sound a hundred,” he says, wincing. “I mean, you don’t have any hesitation about touching me. I thought it would be this big thing where we’d stare at each other and not touch, but I’m thinking that’s not how, _oh,_ how you… do… things,” he whispers, lamely as Bucky kisses down his neck.

His hands are under Steve’s ass, keeping him close but not grabbing his ass like Steve is suddenly desperate for. His hands are big and warm, settled into the meat of his upper thigh. His thumbs brush Steve’s ass cheeks and he shivers. Fuck, it’s just so close to what he wants. His lower back tingles, anxiety shoved to the side as Bucky holds him.

“Daddy,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around him, trying to squirm closer. He’s surprised it slipped out, but is kind of relieved. Like breaking the ice or something. The first time is the hardest.

It feels like the touch is calculated to make him crazy, force him to think about how close he is to having what he desperately wants. That Bucky will decide when he gets it.

“That’s better. There’s my good boy. You’re going to make me think you don’t want my kisses. I swear I’ve been hard since we got off the phone.”

Steve moans, opens his mouth and presses closer. It’s not even kissing, he’s just trembling in Bucky’s arms, needing Bucky to do something, whatever he wants.

He’s pulled taut, every muscle ready to do _something_, confused if he’s supposed to fight or flight or what. He thinks it’s the what. He exhales sharply and Bucky’s hands leave his ass, take hold of Steve’s hips. “You’re like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s bottom lip.

It makes him laugh, breaks the strange tension. He rises up on his tiptoes and clutches him tight against his body. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I think I’m worried about screwing tonight up.”

“You can’t. _Promise,” _he says, an echo of earlier. Steve rolls his eyes. “I like your new place. You move fast.”

“That’s what they say about me.” Actually, he can’t think of a single person who would say that about him. “I move fast for you.” And then, mortifyingly, he can’t shut up. But, he hates the idea of Bucky interpreting Steve’s reticence as lack of desire. “I had all afternoon today and things are perfect. Not a hair out of place. And I’m… clean and, yeah. I’ve got the outfit, the food, nothing can go wrong.” Even as he says it, he knows it’s wrong. That explanation leaves out just how unsettled he is. How worried. Is he lying to Bucky by not telling him? But, he can’t just vomit out all his insecurities and minor inconveniences. That just sounds exhausting.

“Hmm,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss him.

“What does that mean? I don’t need that _hmm_,” he says, reacting too quickly. God, what is wrong with him. If Bucky could just go back outside and come back in again, that would be wonderful.

Bucky lets his arms fall, putting them on the counter behind him. “I’m sure you’re just right,” he says, carefully.

Which is so obviously leading into some bullshit about things being good even when they’re not perfect. How Bucky will like Steve even if he isn’t perfect. And if Bucky says that, he’ll scream. He just will.

“I’ll heat up the food.”

Bucky lets him go. Doesn’t grab him and haul him back against his body. Why doesn’t Bucky just grab him?

“Why don’t I go wash up?” Bucky says, moving out of the kitchen. It feels like a retreat. As if he’s getting distance from Steve. Steve is a fucking idiot. This isn’t going how it’s supposed to go. From the moment Bucky walked away from him yesterday, all he wanted was to be with him. Now he’s here and Steve is fucking it up.

He gets out the wine. Stares at the bottle. Opens the bottle and pours a glass. Bucky comes in while he’s filling the second glass and he makes himself stand up straight, put his shoulders back, wanting to look good as Bucky watches him. He realizes he’s holding his breath. God. He puts the bottle down and offers Bucky a glass.

“I think I’m a little off. Just nervous.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I keep thinking about last night, actually. We did a lot. Usually, if we play like that, it’s best if we have time together afterwards. You might drop or be emotional. I want to be there if you need me. It was a lot, sweetheart.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not it. I loved it. Please don’t give me less just because I’m… a bit of a mess.”

“When did you last eat?” Bucky asks, a little too casual.

“I had a pastry this morning.” Steve breaks out in a sweat. Which is unpleasant. He tugs at his shirt, goes to adjust the AC. He needs to eat more. He knows for a fact he’s a complete dick if he doesn’t get enough food in him. There’s probably a few Snickers in his shield bag. He could go eat one and come back.

Which makes it seem like he has some weird issues about food and he doesn’t. He just doesn’t like the idea of Bucky knowing he hasn’t taken care of himself today. That he didn’t eat. Bucky might be disappointed. But, they’re going to eat now so it’ll be fine.

Steve gets the food set out and they eat. It’s just grilled chicken breast with some herbs for flavor, steamed carrots and roasted potato. Steve is so nervous he doesn’t even try to eat before Bucky has a bite.

It’s bland.

He was concerned about garlic breath or the meal being too heavy and he came up with a meal one only eats on a diet. The chicken is dry. Steve doesn’t want to overeat and he hates how everyone always comments about how much food he packs away. He’d planned on eating again after Bucky left, probably that Snickers bar.

“The food is good,” Bucky says.

It’s so fucking awkward.

“Thanks, I followed a recipe,” Steve says, flatly. Are they going to talk about the weather next?

“Harder than it sounds. My younger sister set a cookbook on fire trying to follow a recipe.”

“You have siblings?”

“I do. I have three younger sisters.”

“So, you’re the oldest?” He tries to fit that into what he knows of Bucky. He doesn’t know all that much. “Didn’t you tell me something about that? On the day of the hug?”

Bucky blushes. “I’m not sure. I think I was trying desperately to not get an erection. It’s very possible I said all sorts of things. But, yeah, it will go down in infamy as the day of the hug,” he says, giving Steve a look that makes his stomach swoop. 

Steve laughs. “I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything. Too much of everything, but I was so overwhelmed at our appointment it’s kind of a blur. Weird, right? I can remember the face of everyone I’ve ever met, every conversation, every smell, what the temperature was, but that meeting is foggy.”

“Is it hard remembering everything? Especially considering a lot of your memories relate to World War 2?”

He shrugs. “It just is.” 

More Silence.

“You did good, renting this place on such short notice. You like it so far?”

“Yeah. It’s got everything I need. Except a vase.” It sounds almost harsh. He hadn’t meant it to. He forces himself to eat another bite of food. It’s going to get weird again. It’s going to be his fault. And then that will be it and Bucky will move on with his life and find someone less pretty on the outside and utterly fucked up on the inside. Looks only go so far. Hell, look at his relationship with Sharon.

What does he have if Bucky decides his looks aren’t enough?

“So, the hard part about starting a relationship like this is figuring out the power dynamic and what’s okay, especially in the very beginning. Some nights it’s easy, you just fall into it and it makes sense. Sometimes, it’s like an agreement and you both kind of shift into who you want to be over the course of a scene or an evening. But, sometimes it just needs to be asserted more forcefully, which would be my responsibility and I’m pretty sure I’m doing a terrible job at it tonight. And there are things we should talk about, safe words, etc.”

“Are you saying I don’t make you feel like a dom?” Or a daddy, but he’d likely start crying if he asked that.

Bucky narrows his gaze at him. “That’s what you took from that, huh?” 

“I’m a super soldier so I don’t know what the point of a safe word would be.”

“There are other ways to hurt people besides physically.”

“I know,” he says, staring at his plate.

“Come here and I’ll feed you.”

“I can feed myself.” He’s so nervous he wouldn’t be able to get the fucking food down. If he says that it’s going to lead to more questions. But, now he’s rejected Bucky.

“Yeah, of course you can. But, I think you’ll like it.”

“Why?” he asks, awkwardly laughing it off. He puts his arm around his stomach. He can’t throw up. Bucky is watching him.

“Where’s my scarf, sweetheart?”

Is he going to take it back? Steve shoves away from the table, goes to the bedroom, heart thundering in his ears, sick at the idea of Bucky taking it back. It’s expensive, of course he is. Maybe he can offer to buy him a new one and he can keep this one?

It’s in the bed, the side he’s chosen, under his pillow. He leans over the bed, grabs it and stands back up again. How can he give it back? Is Bucky going to go? Just take his scarf and walk out the door? Steve turns around. Bucky is in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him.

“I didn’t hear you get up,” he says. He used to be deaf in one ear and he’d get snuck up on all the time. He got good at watching for shadows or feeling the tread of someone’s steps as they approached. He learned to position himself a certain way, minimizing the chances of anyone sneaking up on him. But, once he became perfect, he didn’t have to think about it anymore, all of that went away.

But, it’s like Bucky brought it back again, got under his defenses, under the perfection and managed to remind Steve of another fucked up part of his past that was supposed to be gone. Bucky never would have liked that version of him. That version is supposed to be long gone. He hasn’t thought about that in a few years. Tears fill his eyes.

“Come here,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve goes to him. Bucky holds out a hand. Steve’s hand shakes as he gives the scarf back. Bucky straightens off the frame, drapes it around Steve’s neck, ties it again so it’s secure. Steve whimpers gratefully, feeling better, much better than he should. Protected. Steve reaches for him, gets his hand in his sweater, near his waist. Bucky gives him a tug, pulling him into him, wrapping him in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep daddy’s scarf, babydoll. I wasn’t going to take it from you, I wanted to put it on you. I’m sorry you got scared that I was going to take it back,” he murmurs, holding Steve tight against him. Steve shudders, too much emotion churning inside of him. “I think I’d like to get you a collar, baby. You can put it on before we’re together.”

“Can I wear it out?” he whispers.

“You can wear it whenever you want. We’ll find something that works so you don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to. I want you feeling secure, baby. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe how much I’m screwing this up.”

“Hush. You’re not. Going forward, we need a routine so you’re in the right frame of mind and that will make you feel better. We can talk about it once we get you settled. Can you eat or do you need daddy first?”

“Daddy,” he says, pressing in close. Just saying it makes everything better. Relief, almost like warm water, spills over him and he presses his lips against Bucky’s neck, hands roaming his body, all over his sides and his back.

“We’re not normal people having a first date, Steve. That isn’t what this is and that’s why it didn’t feel right. Why it was so difficult. You’re my boy. You’re daddy’s slut. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, and it’s almost soundless. He wants to go down to the ground and get Bucky’s cock in his mouth, bury his face in Bucky’s groin, in his ass, he wants his daddy’s come. He needs to fulfill his purpose, please Bucky and that makes everything simple and right.

“You have to forgive daddy for doing it wrong. I won’t do it again, baby. Come on over here so I can use you like my good boy deserves. You want to be a whore for daddy?”

He nods. He’s so fucking hard now. Nothing else matters but Bucky. Bucky wraps his hand in the scarf and pulls him towards the chair in the corner of the room.

“Pants off. Underwear on,” Bucky orders, letting him go. He moves the chair so it’s next to the mirror. There’s a mirror on the wall in his bedroom, full length, but you can’t see it from the bed. Bucky sits down, fully dressed, watching Steve.

Steve’s hands are on the zipper and he pulls the tab down while Bucky watches him, idly drops a hand down to his cock, touching himself through his clothing as he watches Steve. _His boy_. Steve gets his pants off, which requires a bit of a shimmy, blushing as Bucky grins at him.

“Painted on. Look so fucking good. Get over here. Let’s get daddy sorted out so we can have a nice time together. You’ll feel better once you know you’re a good boy, won’t you?”

Steve goes. Bucky spreads his legs, “Perch that pretty little ass right here,” he says, giving his cock a squeeze, “give me something to feel while I hold you,” he says.

Steve feels silly, but turns and settles in the space. “Where’s that ass? Get it up against my cock. You’re going to grind up on me like my very own little dirty stripper, aren’t you, my good boy?”

Bucky hauls Steve back with his hand around his upper chest, sticks his other hand down between Steve’s legs, holding Steve by the balls and pulling him back so his ass rubs against Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groans in his ear, hips fucking upward, grinding into him. He pulls harder, fingers pressing bruisingly hard into Steve’s perineum, his balls throbbing, the possibility of serious pain is there.

“Fuck, daddy,” he gasps, hands clutching at the chair so he doesn’t slip.

“What? You love this, baby? I fucking love this. You just want my cock, don’t you? You need daddy’s cock, that’s all. You should be annoyed, me coming in here and not just using you like the filthy slut you are for me.”

It’s too much. It’s overwhelming and he’s helpless against it. He’s pushing back on Bucky’s cock, grinding, the huge bar of his cock, grinding into Steve’s ass cheek, Steve’s leg muscles straining to make the tight little circles Bucky wants, all with the constant pressure and agony on his balls as Bucky guides him.

“Come, daddy?”

Bucky laughs. “Come? I’m not ready to come. That’d be downright insulting, this ass deserves daddy’s attention.”

“No, daddy. Me. Please? Come? God, it hurts and I’m— _daddy._”

Bucky stills, relaxes in the chair and his hands move, Steve’s cock throbs, his balls aching deeply as Bucky lets him go. “Stay where you are. Keep pressure on my cock like that,” he orders. “Feel how hard you made me?” he growls into Steve’s neck.

“Yes, sir,” he whispers, emotionally dropping down into himself, an internal tunnel vision as he stares at them both in the mirror. Bucky’s face flushed in desire now, his gaze on Steve’s profile.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He kisses Steve on the ear, his breath is hot and he’s panting a little under Steve, chest rising and falling, shifting Steve’s shirt against his back. Steve holds himself still, desperate to obey and do it right. Bucky turns his head, looks at Steve in the mirror, a charge of lust going through Steve, making his cock twitch.

Bucky’s dressed and the contrast of that with Steve’s bare legs and how he’s laid back adds to his desire.

“Let’s see what the problem is,” Bucky whispers, hands on Steve’s thighs and then sliding up. He pushes at the button down shirt Steve still has on, rucking it up, revealing Steve’s achingly hard cock in his underwear. The material is pulled taut. His balls are clearly outlined, his cock. And he’s so wet. The front of his underwear is so damp and dark.

He meets Bucky’s gaze in the mirror, horrified, scared of what he might say. Bucky’s hand pets the wetness, ever so gently grazing the head, too. Steve jerks at the touch.

“Shh, calm down. You’ve got a hair trigger I think. Baby it looks like you already came. Did you?”

“No, daddy. I was just… close.” He isn’t sure why. What had it been, like a minute? God, he’s ridiculous. 

“You’re a good slutty boy just like I said. Look how wet you get for daddy. Hold still, keep pressing on my cock, I like that.” Bucky’s hips grind into him, his eyes close, like he’s almost thrusting into Steve.

“Daddy, I need your cock.”

Bucky groans, grabs Steve’s thigh hard with the metal hand. It’s room temperature. Skin temperature. How often is he getting touched with it and he hasn’t even realized, so overwhelmed by everything that he can’t focus on it?

“Don’t be silly. You need a cock ring. Maybe a cock cage,” he says, staring at Steve in the mirror. He’s still petting the wet spot and Steve tilts his head back, kisses Bucky’s jaw and what he can reach. Steve is doing his best not to shake, to not come, the need still so fucking close. It’s hard to back down from the edge. “This cock is going to get you into trouble. We better look at it. See what we’re dealing with.”

Steve whimpers as Bucky reaches for the waistband of Steve’s underwear, and Bucky hushes him again. That gets to him every time, that quiet murmur to calm him, because Bucky never stops. It’s an acknowledgment that Steve is in distress, but he isn’t going to stop. Because his daddy’s wants are more important than his needs.

He comes. That realization, the sudden touch of air on his cock as he’s exposed and he comes in hard spurts onto his shirt and his stomach. He moans and grinds back, finishes coming and opens his eyes. Meets Bucky’s gaze in the mirror.

Bucky tucks the fabric under his balls and Steve whimpers. “Shh. Sweetheart, you’re going to have to learn,” he says, firmly, and he can feel Bucky’s cock twitch against his ass, can hear in his voice that he’s aroused at Steve coming.

“Daddy’s needs have to come first, don’t they?” he asks, as his hand wraps around Steve’s cock.

“Oh, fuck. Daddy!” he’s much too sensitive for this, but Bucky doesn’t care. He starts low at the base, a hard squeeze as he strips Steve’s cock, a last pulse of come drooling out of him and sliding down Bucky’s fist. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, like he doesn’t know and begins to jerk Steve off.

“Shit. Bucky, oh my god.” He presses his forehead into Bucky’s jaw and shakes, shudders endlessly as Bucky works him through the agony and over sensitivity. “Good boy. You just take it. You’ll get through it.” He starts sweating, panting and then it changes a little, his balls sting as he starts getting aroused again. He opens his eyes to look. He’s dark red, a painful sort of color, balls tight and wedged under the elastic. There’s come all over him. Oh god, there’s come on his neck. The hollow of his own throat.

He starts to fuck into Bucky’s fist, making sure to press back into Bucky’s cock, working him while Bucky jacks him off. “That was really pretty, babydoll.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look at me,” Bucky orders. Steve looks at him. “I’m not mad. That’s what good sluts do, isn’t it?” Bucky lets go of Steve’s cock. His cock pulses at the loss, desperate to release again. Steve feels those words inside him like a punch. The certainty of it, the truth of it all. He is a slut for Bucky.

“Want to come again, already.”

“Of course you do. But, you need to pay attention to daddy now. Get this big cock to come. That’s your job, sweetheart. You want to rub it out of me, just like this? You were right, baby, your ass is so fucking perfect,” he growls, and starts thrusting his hips gently. “Would you like that? If I came in my pants, while you’ve still got your underwear on, because you get me so fucking hard?”

“No, daddy.”

“What, what else is there?” he asks, and Steve is so fucking out of it with desire he doesn’t pick up on Bucky’s tone of voice, that it’s a game. All he knows is that his daddy is going to come and it’s going to have nothing to do with his hole even though Bucky promised. Even though Steve has been waiting, and even though he needs it.

“Can I take my underwear off and you can come on my hole?”

“You feel so good, Steve. I don’t think I need it this time. Faster, sweetheart. A little harder.”

“Daddy, please. You promised to look at it. And to finger me.”

Steve grinds closer, a little faster, rubbing back on the shaft even as he wants to cry in disappointment. Bucky promised to play with his hole. To give him his fingers. Steve can’t even touch it on his own, he has to wait for Bucky. And this is so close but not nearly satisfying enough. It’s just winding him up. He doesn’t want Bucky to come this way. What if he comes and that’s it and Steve has to wait for another day, or longer, to have Bucky see how perfect he is? “Daddy,” he begs.

“Jesus, your ass feels good. Do you want to tell me about your hole? Convince me. I don’t want to stop when I’m this close and I’ve got you here doing such a good job working it out of me. Persuade me.”

“I can’t… I don’t know how.”

“That’s fine. I’m happy here,” he says, groaning. Bucky’s hands slide up Steve’s chest, squeeze his pecs. “Baby, oh my fucking god, have you been hiding your tits from me,” he demands, fingers moving to undo the buttons of Steve’s shirt.

“Daddy, wait! I want you to see it,” he says, embarrassed. “My hole. It’s… _daddy_,” he begs.

Bucky sighs, lets his hands drop down again, framing Steve’s cock and balls but not touching. “I like it when you beg and plead. Do you know that? Do you know you can get daddy to do anything if you give me that?”

“Please,” he whispers. His cock aches at the idea, the base of his shaft and his balls throbbing in warning.

“Is it pretty?” Bucky asks, letting his head go back, spreading his legs a little wider so Steve can just rub without him doing a damned thing. “I’m getting close, Steve.”

“But, it’s perfect. I swear. It’s… pink and tight and so clean. My skin is smooth, daddy. It’s perfect. Please?” Steve groans in frustration, writhes back harder because he wants to be good and obey. That’s the most important thing. “Look, please. You can… _fuck_, you can see it. Let me show you. Daddy? Please?” He shoves his hand against his mouth, sobbing into his hand.

“You need it that bad, baby?”

“I do,” he confesses, mortified and weak with how ashamed and desperate he feels.

“Hold still. Give me a minute to think.” Steve stops moving. Bucky groans, starts kissing Steve’s neck, hands back to his tits, squeezing and finding his nipples through the material, pinching hard.

“Please don’t make me come again,” he says.

Bucky chuckles and lets him go. “Good boy.” He sighs. “Did you put on your bleach cream, today?”

Steve’s eyes fly to his in the mirror. “Yes, Bucky.”

“I bet it’s so pink.”

“It is. It is.”

“Like your lips? Look how pretty your lips are,” Bucky orders and Steve looks in the mirror at his red, bitten lips. “No. Lighter.”

“Yeah? What about after you fuck yourself? Does it get that color?” Bucky’s hand cups Steve’s balls, hints at going back further. Steve grinds into him, trying to encourage the touch.

“Stop being a greedy little slut for a minute.”

He turns his head away, feels how hot his neck and face are getting. “I can’t believe you’re saying that to me.”

Bucky strokes his thumb along Steve’s smooth balls. “This is beautiful, you know. Look how soft you are here. How smooth. You wax your balls, baby? And the color. Do you like me touching you here?”

“Yeah.” A bead of come wells out of the slit, sliding down Steve’s shaft. He can’t come again. Not before Bucky.

Bucky squeezes, correcting him.

“Yes, daddy,” he gasps.

“I think if you knew how you reacted when I call you a slut, how much it turns me on to see you get so flustered and worked up over it, I think you’d change your name.”

Steve laughs. “Just be Slut Rogers?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s a bit awkward to explain to the kids and some of the fans, but otherwise it’s actually a really good idea.”

“Yeah, it’s a great idea. Do you have any interest in PR?”

“There’s my funny boy. Kiss daddy,” he orders, and Steve turns his head, craning his neck as far as he can to make it easier for Bucky to kiss him. He gets a hand on his neck, a gentle weight keeping him there, a threat but no force.

“If you’d put the other hand on me just now I think I would have come again, daddy.”

“Okay, you’ve got an arm fetish, we’ll put it on the list,” he says, smiling. “It’s habit to not touch with it. We’ll work on it. Well, I’m done with this. I’m torturing myself just as much as I’m torturing you. You’re gonna come twice before I get mine if this keeps up. Show daddy your hole,” he says, urging Steve to his feet. 

Sheer terror goes through him. What if it isn’t as good as he thinks it is? What if Bucky thinks it’s ugly or gross and leaves? “Wait. I bought candles. Lighting. Or… even the light on the bedside table could go on?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m going to see every detail. Every fold of skin and all around that tight little bud. Clenched up, desperate to be opened. I’m going to look at it. Examine you. I know it’s beautiful. You work so hard on it, take such good care of it. Let’s let daddy appreciate it properly.”

“God, I just….What if you don’t like it?”

“You know I will. Look at me,” he orders.

Steve has to sniff and blink through tears. Bucky leans down, kisses his lips briefly. “Do you trust me? I won’t disappoint you. We don’t have to do it this way, this isn’t easy, but Stevie, this is how I want it. And, I’m pretty sure you do, too. But, it’s a lot, babydoll. Tell me if it’s too much and I’ll be sweet to you. I can turn out the lights and kiss you gently and I won’t treat you like my own personal whore, ass up and on display so I can come all over you.”

Steve grips the base of his cock and his balls, really hard so he doesn’t come, shifting unhappily on his feet as he presses his face into Bucky’s neck. “Fuck. I can’t get back down, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for almost coming. I love it. Just make sure you don’t,” he says, warningly.

“Daddy,” he says, leaning into him, pressing his cock and balls, hands still wrapped protectively around himself into Bucky’s hip.

“We’ll work it out. You’re greedy and you do everything well. You’re a slut for daddy, that’s good. I’ll help you. We’ll make sure you come when you’re supposed to and not a moment before.”

It’s both a threat and a promise, and it’s so hot and so controlling that he presses closer, rubbing just a little. “Fuck, I—”

Bucky shifts his hips back and Steve’s cock strains in his hands, desperate to come. “Don’t. Hands off.”

“Daddy. Daddy, I—”

“Stevie,” he says, darkly.

He almost falls as he lets himself go, looks down at how sore and dark he looks, flushed almost purple with arousal. “I didn’t come today. I wanted to wait for you and I was so nervous.”

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, kissing Steve’s face and licking. Fuck, licking his tears away. He rests his hands on Bucky’s chest, not daring to move more than that. He didn’t know he was crying. “You’re exceptional. I don’t want to say you’re perfect, because I don’t give a shit about that even though I know you like it. A thing can be perfect or close to ideal, but people aren’t meant to be measured that way. You’re not perfect but I’m fucking obsessed with you, sweetheart. I want to make you come and cry, I want to tie you to this fucking bed and control every god damned thing you do. You have no idea what you do to me, baby. I want to fucking own you, Steve. Do you understand? I want all of it, every piece of you, exactly how I want it and when I want it,” he whispers, roughly, his grip tight enough to bruise, “so you’re going to get into the middle of that bed and you’re going to show daddy your pretty hole and I’m going to come so fucking hard, because it’s my turn and I’m done waiting. Can you do that for me or not?”

“I’m just scared.”

Bucky huffs a sound, kisses Steve on the forehead. Steve can see how hard he is in his pants, practically feel the desperation coming off of Bucky. “I know. That’s why you just obey your daddy. Give in. It’s mine already. I want all of you. You want to give yourself to me, don’t you?”

Steve whimpers and nods, kisses him roughly.

“Good. So, I’ll help you.” Bucky says, and there’s something there. This isn’t a gentle offer, he’s getting. Bucky’s nostrils flare as he looks down at Steve, at the wetness of his underwear and back up to his face. “You gonna obey me now?”

Steve goes very still. He nods. “Yes, daddy. Want you to help me.”

“Of course you do, my good fucking boy,” Bucky growls and his cold hand is suddenly hard on the back of Steve’s neck as he’s propelled towards the bed, stumbling at the last step, letting himself be that clumsy and weak, falling onto the bed and looking over his shoulder with wide eyes, lips parted.

Steve’s heart pounds and his mouth goes dry. This is… it’s real and so much more intense than anything he’d ever imagined. He feels oddly small in the middle of the bed. Bucky looming above him like he’s going to ravish him, take Steve’s ass and ride him rough.

Ruin him, maybe. So he couldn’t ever have anyone else. Wouldn’t ever want anyone else. Would be too scared to even look at anyone else because of what daddy might do if he so much as thought about giving away his precious hole to another.

Bucky opens his pants, pulls his cock out, moaning at the pleasure of finally getting some freedom. His cock weeps as he looks at Steve’s body. Bucky licks his lips and fists his own cock.

“Let’s get a look at you, princess,” he orders, lets himself go and reaches for Steve’s underwear. Princess? What? No. But he thinks of how he looks, tossed into the middle of the bed with tears running down his face as he looks at the bad man behind him, so big and fisting his cock. On the edge of taking what he wants.

Steve wishes his underwear was nicer looking. Women always get such good underwear. He’s a present, he’s going to be used by daddy and his underwear isn’t good enough for special he wants to look for him. Bucky pulls Steve’s pants down his hips, revealing his ass. He smacks him on the ass a few times and Steve gasps. Bucky’s hand smacks upwards, catching the bottom of each cheek so his flesh jiggles. Steve’s eyes blur, he isn’t sure why.

“God, look at that fucking ass. Stevie, you’re so beautiful. Go ahead and reach back, show me your hole. Let daddy see,” he growls, one hand working his cock, the other on his balls.

He’s waiting, watching Steve like he is his whore or his captured princess or something. This is about his own pleasure and Steve is causing it, can make it happen by obeying and showing his hole. Like a whore. Spreading his cheeks crudely.

“D-daddy?” Can’t Bucky do it? Just take what he wants? He doesn’t know how to ask for that. It doesn’t even occur to him to say, ‘you’ or ‘you do it.’ He’s helpless and small. The tears are still coming. “I just want to know that you like it,” he whispers, and his hands are on his cheeks. He’s been hesitating. Embarrassed. “It’s… it’s for you.”

“What a sweetheart you are. Go on, babydoll. Let me see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention I was sorry? But, also, I've written a 15k sex scene. How crazy is that?!? I think it's my years of being obsessed with Laurell K. Hamilton. Oh, Jean Claude.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez. Where to begin. So... I put a little bit of last chapter at the beginning of this chapter (In italics) just because otherwise I think the first sentence was like 'spread your cheeks' or something and that seemed a little (I'm sorry for saying this) in your face, like we should ease into the cheek spreading with three paragraphs from yesterday. IDK. Kill me now. 
> 
> Also, I'm pretty sure that enema is tagged but i will defo be adding that if it isn't, so if you were like, ugh, enema, well it's here. there is still a closed door bathroom policy and always will be but, you know. Maybe you know? scat is a hard no and I'm trying to walk that line. (Seriously, what am i doing with my life?)
> 
> Umm... Oh! Comments. I am responding to a few from yesterday still but wanted to get this chapter out bc I've been posting in the morning and it's already afternoon. I have no idea if anyone has noticed, but I have applied this anxiety to myself, so I figured I'd post now and finish responding after. Sorry if you were aware. i was writing new stuff and like to do that earlier in the day. I didn't start editing until 11 and of course I wound up adding lots of words. hopefully it's not too rough. I always prefer a bit of time to let things sit but oh well.

_Steve wishes his underwear was nicer looking. Women always get such good underwear. He’s a present, he’s going to be used by daddy and his underwear isn’t good enough for special he wants to look for him. Bucky pulls Steve’s pants down his hips, revealing his ass. He smacks him on the ass a few times and Steve gasps. Bucky’s hand smacks upwards, catching the bottom of each cheek so his flesh jiggles. Steve’s eyes blur, he isn’t sure why._

_“God, look at that fucking ass. Stevie, you’re so beautiful. Go ahead and reach back, show me your hole. Let daddy see,” he growls, one hand working his cock, the other on his balls._

_He’s waiting, watching Steve like he is his whore or his captured princess or something. This is about his own pleasure and Steve is causing it, can make it happen by obeying and showing his hole. Like a whore. Spreading his cheeks crudely._

_“D-daddy?” Can’t Bucky do it? Just take what he wants? He doesn’t know how to ask for that. It doesn’t even occur to him to say, ‘you’ or ‘you do it.’ He’s helpless and small. The tears are still coming. “I just want to know that you like it,” he whispers, and his hands are on his cheeks. He’s been hesitating. Embarrassed. “It’s… it’s for you.”_

_“What a sweetheart you are. Go on, babydoll. Let me see.”_

Steve grips his ass cheeks, able to feel the heavy weight of Bucky’s gaze. His hole clenches and he isn’t sure how that looks so he lets go, hands loose and hovering as he drags in a breath. He clenches his cheeks again, as if he needs the reassurance that his hole isn’t visible. Is protected, tucked away between his cheeks. It’s difficult, the most difficult thing he’s ever done. He’s imagined this moment for so long, but now that it’s here, he’s terrified. What if he’s been wrong? What if his hole isn’t that great?

“Show daddy. Come on now,” he says, gently, brushing the backs of his fingers up Steve’s thigh. It makes him shiver.

He presses his forehead into the bedding and pulls his cheeks apart, feels the rim clench and frantically tries to relax, shifting on the bed. His underwear is around his thighs and he wishes it was off, isn’t sure how undignified he looks like this.

“Oh, Stevie,” he says, and Steve looks behind him, the worshipful tone of Bucky’s voice reassuring enough for him to check. “Just _look_ at that pretty fucking hole. Get on your knees, babydoll. Serve that hole up to me, don’t make me wait.”

“Daddy,” he begs, because it’s too much. He doesn’t know who he is, feels exposed and vulnerable, downright weak. Bucky is so big behind him, his cock so hard and giant, balls full. What if Bucky decides to fuck him with that big monster of a thing? It’s different now, seeing him hard and ready, not quite threatening but the possibility is there.

Even worse though, what if Bucky doesn’t fuck him? He’s at Bucky’s mercy and it’s so intense and powerful. He’d expected to be turned on and he is, but that’s not the overwhelming desire he feels. It’s for approval. To be wanted and good enough. To be wanted enough that he gets used, that it’s going to happen because he’s just so irresistible.

He’d have no choice but to enjoy it then, to give in completely because it’s nothing he can control anymore. And this is it, isn’t it? His deepest, darkest most shameful fantasy, that his perfect, enticing hole belongs to Bucky and… maybe it’s not good, after all. Maybe he’s not good. 

Steve pushes up to his knees at Bucky’s urging, hands under Steve’s hips, insisting he come back, offer it up. Fuck. He can’t. And yet, his legs are spread, underwear pulled tight between his thighs and Bucky’s hands cover his, on his ass cheeks. “Exactly what I wanted. _Perfect.”_

Steve whimpers. Bucky says it in a way that makes Steve wonder if he knows. Not just that Steve wants validation, but that particular validation. Perfect. The pinnacle. Faultless.

“You wanna let go? You’ve done your part. Now daddy is going to take what he wants.”

Steve releases his cheeks and gets his arms folded under his head. The bedding gets damp with tears almost instantly. Bucky kisses his butt cheek, slides a dry finger gently over the furled opening. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I’m going to take pictures of this hole. Videos of me fucking it and when you’re not around, and I need to come, that’s what I’m going to look at.”

He risks a glance back, having to see if it’s true. “Do you promise, daddy?”

Bucky smiles at him, a grin. “I do. Do you like the idea of that? Me jerking off to your hole, wishing I was inside you, forced to make do with my hand when it should be your hole I get to bury my cock in?”

He nods, wipes his face on the bedding.

“I promise, babydoll. This is it for me. No wonder you’re so proud, wanting to show it off.” Steve blushes and buries his head again, almost purring at the comfort of it, the shelter there. Cozy, soft and hidden, warm. So much better than the closet. Better than anything he’d ever thought to ave.

Bucky spanks him again and he jolts forward, cock spasming, shame filling him. _Please don’t make me come again_, he thinks. Not before his daddy, and not without a hand on himself. Not again.

“Look at this skin. Smooth, Steve. And so pretty. I can see every bit of you, not a hair in sight, not a blemish on those cheeks. I could eat my dinner off this asshole it’s so clean. It looks like you’ve never been fucked. Like this hole has just been waiting for me, for all this time, just for my cock.” A pause, Steve is waiting, expectant. He desperately wants Bucky to say it. He can almost feel the words trembling between them. “Be a shame to ruin it,” Bucky says, softly. As if it’s already decided. A fact.

“Thank god. Please, Bucky.” He arches his back, tilting a little.

“Easy. Just let me now. You just lay there.”

Steve whimpers and waits. God, he wants to cry with it desperately, just huge wrenching sobs that would show much he’s feeling. He wants to comeand have this feeling of need and desperation mean something. Does Bucky understand, really understand, what he’s doing to Steve? That he didn’t even know he could _feel_ like this, become this desperate for approval and touch?

That’s not who he is. He’s an island. Self sufficient. The world didn’t care about him for so long, his wants and desires were kept buried so deep, and that was fine. He made his own way, became something, survived, endured and proved himself while almost the entire rest of the world discarded him.

The identity he’s clung to for so long, that shield this body has given him is useless now. The real him is weeping and begging, desperate and needy and it’s here. Bucky has dredged up all of these thing and feelings, made Steve become them completely and it’s awful and good at once. He was fake and Bucky has made him real. He hates it. He does.

Bucky’s finger is damp as he brushes the tight opening, fingertip grazing the sensitive skin. Steve jolts at the shock of someone else touching him there. He hates it. He does.

“Metal, daddy,” Steve begs.

“If I touch you with it, are you going to come?”

He shakes his head. They both know the answer now. Bucky bites him on the ass, not hard enough to bruise, but there’s teeth and the lick of his tongue, a hint of prickling pain and Steve moans.

“Careful,” Steve pleads. Bucky’s hand is suddenly on Steve’s cock, the faintest touch, but he knows he must be leaking copiously, can feel strands of wetness as Bucky takes his hand away.

“Sweetheart, if you need to come, then you just go ahead. I can’t keep taking breaks for you just because you need it so bad.” The metal hand is in Steve’s hair, jerking his head back. “Sluts do what sluts do,” he says, but Steve can barely hear him as his orgasm rolls through him.

Bucky lets go of his head and Steve doesn’t have the strength to keep it upright, face back in the bedding as aftershocks of pleasure go through him. Bucky strokes both hands up and down Steve’s back, gentling him. “How fucking beautiful are you?

Steve drags in air, presses back a little so Bucky knows his ass is available. Whatever daddy wants. Steve will take it. Wants to. His balls and cock are almost sore, touch-starved, coming without help, without that extra grip and pull to really empty him out and encourage the release.

It’s not like he’s only used a prostate massager or something, he definitely came, fuck did he come, but there’s a heaviness in his balls, like there’s more still. What if he doesn’t go soft?

His breath hitches at the idea, the weight of this arousal and need for his daddy destroying his reserves of strength and will. If he’s not careful he’s going to beg and plead and be the most shameless slut, just like daddy said he was.

“Fuck me,” he begs.

Bucky’s hands disappear, he’s cold and alone. “Daddy?”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. You miss my finger?” he asks, and there’s another damp touch, gently resting and then lightly pressing at the very center of his hole.

“Here, baby,” he says, and there’s wetness, Bucky spitting on his hole.

“Daddy?” His voice is rough. He puts a hand on the scarf, petting it awkwardly, his hand trapped under him.

“Shh. Just have to keep my finger wet as I touch your little hole. I’ve gotta treat you right here. So you come back to me, needing my touch. I’ve got to do it right, don’t I? So pretty, Steve.” He presses a little harder and Steve sighs in pleasure.

Bucky taps gently at him and he whimpers, grinds back, wanting that finger inside him. “Yeah, you’re going to let me in, aren’t you?”

“Of course, daddy.”

“_Of course_,” Bucky repeats, proud of him. It fills Steve with warmth and goodness and he tries to press back more, give more. “Can I taste you? My mouth is watering. You need kisses, sweetheart. It’s a god damned shame you’ve gone this long without a tongue licking you open like you deserve.”

“Please,” he begs. Steve waits, breath held. This is what he’s always wanted, a mouth back there. A tongue, someone wanting his hole so desperately, the absolute worst part of him, and someone who understands just how much he needs to be taken care of, even there. Especially there.

Bucky’s tongue slides, long and flat up his perineum and over his hole and Steve keens, pressing back. “Daddy,” he gasps, and Bucky moans, presses his face deeper between Steve’s cheeks, like he’s going to get his whole face inside him. As if he’ll never be deep enough, no part of Steve he doesn’t want.

Steve shudders in response, balls filling and drawing up again, cock pulsing to hardness, hovering on the edge of coming as Bucky works him. Bucky blows breath on him and Steve makes a sound. Bucky chuckles, licks and blows again and then his tongue is poking at his ring, kissing it with intention, slurping at him and Bucky moans again, as if there isn’t anywhere else he’d rather be, as if Steve’s hole is that good.

“Fuck, so pretty. Can I have this, baby?”

“Anything you want.”

“Then I want this hole. God, if people knew this is what you had under that uniform, that this is how you look and taste, where you fucking _live,_ I’d have to beat them off with a stick. Every guy would want to fuck this hole. You know this hole is mine now, don’t you?”

God, he’s going to come. “Do you really want it? Please don’t lie to me. _Bucky_,” he says, because this is serious and he can’t call him daddy and let him know just how much approval he needs. There has to be a hint of self preservation. Even if it’s just so he can lie to himself. 

“I do. I have to have it. It’s beautiful. Prettiest hole I’ve ever seen, best tasting and I bet it’s going to feel incredible when I’m using it. Yeah, this is _my_ hole now,” he growls, murmuring the words into Steve’s sensitive skin. Steve comes with a startled cry, moaning as he unloads in weak spurts.

Bucky’s hand wraps around him, jerking him through the last shocks of it all and Steve can’t do anything more than moan and come, endless and too big. Bucky stills his hand finally, just holds his cock in his hand, his other hand on Steve’s back, petting him easily.

“You’re so beautiful. What a good boy you are. Have my come, sweetheart. Can I come all over your ass?”

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, voice slurred.

“That’s special, baby. Now that I know how perfect it is, what a good boy you are, we have to do it right. Daddy will make plans for taking your hole.”

That’s devastating. It turns out that a rather large part of him had believed that his daddy would take one look at his hole and he’d have to fuck him. “Oh god. But, you said,” he whispers, and sobs into his arm. “You said you would. You said it was yours.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I need to fuck you, too. God, do I. But, you’re too precious, Steve. To me. You’re a virgin. As much as you’ve taken dildos, no one has had that hole besides what you’ve done to it. Your virginity is a gift, Stevie. You need to trust daddy to make it good for us.”

_No_. On one hand he loves that, how serious Bucky sounds, how sweet and commanding. How reverent he is about Steve’s hole and his… virginity. But, he needs Bucky’s cock. He’s wanted to get fucked for so long and part of him can’t help but think of this as rejection. Bucky shouldn’t be able to wait.

“But, I—”

Bucky smacks him on the ass

“Oh!” Steve gasps, turning to see Bucky’s face. He doesn’t know what to do with the spanking. It destroys him. Every little tap and swat is confusing and he both wants to cry and be held with each touch.

And afterwards, his skin is so warm. No matter how light it was, there’s a little echo of sensation and sometimes it’s good, as if it’s glowing, and sometimes it throbs, but it’s a lot. Every hit has repercussions he can’t process.

And, it doesn’t make any fucking sense that someone who’s been beaten up so damned much over the course of his long life, and someone who can literally walk off just about any fucking injury, might have a breakdown from a playful tap on his bare ass.

“Hold still,” Bucky demands, fingers on Steve’s ass, sliding down his crack and stroking over his damp rim. He presses the tip of a finger in, where Steve is looser from Bucky’s tongue in his hole. Bucky grunts, low and animalistic. “It won’t take long. Look at it. Push out against my finger, let me feel you, how you’re going to open up for me.” Bucky’s thumb is pressing against his hole now, his other hand on his cock, pumping furiously. Steve exhales and pushes, his hole flutters, opens a little and his thumb presses into him.

“Jesus, yeah, here you go, baby,” he says, and he comes in hot stripes, shocking in how intensely Steve feels them land, at the relief of Bucky coming. Bucky groans in pleasure as he paints Steve’s cheeks, presses his thumb in and then pulls it out. “You really are incredible,” he says, on a sigh and he starts running his fingers through the come, rubbing it into Steve’s ass cheek and down, into his smooth perineum and the looser skin of his balls. Steve tenses and stays very still as Bucky rubs it all in and then gives him a pat on the ass.

“You’re a good boy, Stevie. Come here, babydoll,” he orders, and pulls Steve up, somehow gets them twisted around so they’re both on their knees. Bucky looks at Steve’s face, cups his cheeks in his hands. His hands feel cool compared to how hot Steve is. Steve presses weakly into the metal one. His eyes are sore, have that gritty feeling from crying and his nose is all stuffed up. His bottom lip hurts and he licks it, tastes blood.

“Oh, you just fell apart, didn’t you, sweetheart? Let’s get you cleaned up.” He gets off the bed, hands held out for Steve. Steve nods jerkily, takes his hands and awkwardly knee walks to the edge of the bed, stands up and collapses back down to sitting. He shivers, cold, pulls Bucky close and holds on tight, his head in Bucky’s chest, snuggles closer to feel his heart thumping against his ear.

Bucky smells like sex and sweat, the end of a long day, deodorant wearing off and Steve turns his head so he’s closer, can breathe in more of him. God. He’s gay. It’s a dumb, random thought, but nothing he’s ever felt for a woman could compare to this. He’d kiss Bucky’s feet, lick him all over, sleep with his tongue in Bucky’s hole if he could, that’s how much he wants him. Steve doesn’t mean to start crying again but he can’t seem to stop. He sniffles and presses his face close.

“You’re so good, Steve. You’ll be alright. Daddy’s here now. I’ll take care of you. Do you understand?”

He drags in a heavy breath and nods. “I do. I’ll be so good for you, daddy.” A few more minutes pass, Bucky’s hands rubbing his back, smoothing out the tension and the weird sense of neediness and being unclaimed.

Bucky tries again, tugging him to the bathroom, turning on the shower and grabbing tissue. He puts it to Steve’s nose. “Blow.”

He blows his nose and it’s gross, it has to be, but Bucky is looking at him dopily. He kisses Steve on the forehead. Steve’s hair is damp with sweat and he feels like he’s just fought for his life and hasn’t slept in a week. He’s weak and… simple.

Bucky makes him blow again and tells Steve he’s good then leads him into the shower. He washes Steve gently, touching him all over, and Steve puts his arms around Bucky when Bucky releases him, needing to touch him.

“When we play like we just did, you should always touch me as much as you want. You cling onto me. You don’t let me go and I won’t let you go. We play and then I get to take care of you, like this, and you letting me, touching me, that’s what makes me feel good. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. Yes, daddy,” he says, kissing his neck.

He presses his lips to Bucky’s, soft and slightly open.

“Good boy,” he whispers, into Steve’s mouth. “Let’s get settled on the couch for a bit. Can you clean your hole for me or do you want daddy to do it?”

Steve blushes and reaches for the soap. Special soap that’s gentle and chemical free for his hole. He puts his hand back and rubs into the crevice, brushes along his hole. No trace of where his daddy’s touch was. He isn’t sore or aching. His hole is tightly shut. It makes him stupidly sad. All he got was spit and that’s all gone now. Bucky didn’t even come on it. He came on his ass cheek.

He stays against Bucky’s chest while he does it and knows he has to stop or he’ll start getting hard. Hard and sad. A shitty combo if ever there was one. He drops his hand. “I need to rinse it off.”

Bucky moves out of the way and Steve stands under the spray. Bucky cups his face in his hands, staring into his eyes as Steve parts his cheeks and lets the water run over his hole.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Bucky orders.

It’s difficult to look him in the face while he does this. Steve offers his mouth. A distraction. Bucky smiles at him and kisses his lips. “You all clean now?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Bucky turns off the water and they dry off. They go back into the kitchen and Steve eats, practically inhales food he’s so fucking hungry now. Bucky eats more too, but is busy getting them orange juice, pottering around the kitchen. He reaches into his bag and pulls out two big bars of chocolate.

Steve eyes them.

“I only want a few squares. They’re for you. I knew we were going to play hard and it’s important for you to keep your energy up so you don’t drop.” He opens the chocolate bar and Steve goes closer, waits. Bucky holds it up to his mouth and Steve takes it, puts his hands on Bucky’s waist, wanting to touch him.

The chocolate is good and he swallows and waits for more. Bucky puts it in his mouth. “You have incredible lips. I want to rest my dick right here,” he says, and touches the middle of Steve’s bottom lip with his index finger, gentle weight pulling it down a little. He’s staring at Steve’s mouth intently, like it’s a riddle or something.

“I usually want to fuck my partners face. And I do, definitely, want to fuck your face. But, this mouth… I want soft things from you. I want these lips on my cock. A little bit of your tongue, but your lips. Does that make sense?” he says, and sighs, like he knows it doesn’t. “We’ll work it out, baby. I just need so much from you,” he says, like it’s unfortunate for Steve.

Steve is getting hard.

Bucky glances down. He sighs, almost too casual, then feeds Steve more chocolate. Bucky is going to make him hard, has decided he wants that from him. Steve is glad he’s beginning to pick up on whatever the tell is.

“I like fucking throats. Get the head of my cock back there, feeling myself right here,” he says, touching Steve gently, with the metal hand no less. Steve tilts his head back so he can touch him better, shivers and Bucky’s lips twitch up in a smile. “Come in their throat so they swallow it and don’t even taste it. I don’t know how much of that you’re going to get.”

Steve drags in a breath, uncertain if it’s good or bad to be so different. “You, my baby, my boy, I think you’ll spend a hell of a lot of time with your lips on my cock. Maybe you’ll lick it out of me. I want to come here,” he says, and touches Steve’s lip again, presses into his mouth so Steve’s mouth opens. He touches the tip of Steve’s tongue. “You’re going to need to taste me. Get the flavor in your mouth. If you don’t like it, I’ll train you to like it,” he says, nodding thoughtfully, as if he’s just worked out the answer to a problem. He puts more chocolate in Steve’s mouth, leans close, licking Steve’s bottom lip.

“How do you feel about that? If I want the emphasis to be making you love my come and you worshipping my cock? I’m not even sure it’s about me coming. It’s about me giving it to you how I want it, whether you like it or not.”

The knowledge that it’s intentional, Bucky wanting him to get really fucking hard and desperate doesn’t keep it from happening. “I already love your cock and want your come. And, I’m hard again. Is that what you wanted?” he asks, kissing Bucky’s mouth hard, biting his bottom lip so he doesn’t just sink to the ground like he’s pretty sure Bucky thought he would.

“I like you hard. But, I like talking about it, too.”

“Oh, really?” Steve asks, sarcastically.

Bucky grins at him, grabs his ass cheek through his towel. “Shut up and listen. Daddy will train you. You’ll do it all _exactly_ as I want. You’ll open my pants, bury your face in my balls and your mouth will water. You’ll see,” he whispers. “I fucking promise you,” he growls, pressing into Steve hard, gripping him tight, teeth working their way down Steve’s neck in hard bites. “Jesus fucking _Christ_, you make me crazy,” Bucky says, relaxing abruptly. He shudders as he gets himself under control.

Steve trembles. He’s painfully aroused again. To think he was impotent with Sharon. What an idiot he was. His daddy needs to be just as out of control as he is. He tries to slip to the floor, Bucky’s hands clenching on his arms, thinking about stopping him. Steve ignores the clenching grip, fingers leaving bruises as he gets to the ground. He’s a super soldier. It will be gone in an hour or two.

Steve has Bucky’s cock in his mouth and is sucking hard almost instantly, moaning at how hard he is. Bucky groans deeply, wetness spilling onto Steve’s tongue. He swallows and Bucky pants while his cock twitches in Steve’s mouth, as if he might come just from that first suck.

Yes. Steve moans again, bobs his head, determined to make that happen. Make his daddy come, his turn to get what he wants. Bucky’s hands shove in to his hair, hard, stilling him. 

Moments pass. “That’s enough. I want to spend a bit of time on your ass before bed. Get a towel for the couch,” Bucky says, panting. He moves back, cock slipping out of Steve’s mouth, slapping hard against his stomach. He pulls Steve to his feet and goes to his bag. Steve gets a dry towel, lays it on the couch and stands there uncertainly.

Bucky sits on the couch. He’s got underwear on again while Steve is naked. Bucky pats his lap. “Ass up, on my lap. Watch tv or close your eyes while I play with you.”

How can Bucky stop? When he was so close to coming? How could he not finish in Steve’s mouth? Tears fill Steve’s eyes. “Sweetheart, I told you what I want to happen. I want to feed you my come and I want to do it my way. Be a good boy and do as your told. You don’t always get it how you want it.” Steve goes, hesitant and nervous, chastised and yeah, petulant.

Bucky puts a finger under his chin, just as he’s about to lay down. It’s actually really fucking vulnerable and awkward. “In the future, I might not be so forgiving about you taking matters into your own hands. If I want you on your knees, I’ll put you there.”

He almost collapses, lip trembling as he struggles not to cry. “Daddy?”

Bucky gets oil on his hands. It smells faintly of orange and something else. It’s light and pleasant. “Come on, good boy.”

Steve adjusts because his cock is in the way and finally he just has to reach under himself and turn it to the side. It takes him a minute to calm down and start to relax, Bucky’s chastisement ringing in his ears. Bucky’s hands are warm and slick as they glide over the globes of his ass.

“Beautiful. My plan is to rub this into you and finger your hole. You have to tell me if it becomes too much or you need a break. I’m a little concerned I’ll get carried away and not pay as close attention to you as I should. You expect me to read your body language and guess, and I’m pretty happy to do that, I like it, but your ass is so pretty it makes it difficult. If I’m hurting you I want it to be on purpose, not because I got distracted. Okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers, wishing he could kiss him. He understands that they’re not just talking about this moment.

“I’m sorry you’ll need to help me every now and again. Maybe you can be more playful and bratty as things go on, but I won’t allow it yet.”

“Because you don’t want to hurt me?” he asks, needing to hear it.

“Because I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone in my entire life and I haven’t quite figured out what to do with that yet.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, daddy.”

Bucky sighs. “I know. You’re a good boy.” Steve isn’t quite sure what that tone implies but Bucky’s rubbing the globes of his ass, massaging in the oil and it feels so fucking good he doesn’t care.

Steve looks at him over his shoulder, at how transfixed Bucky is by the flashing of Steve’s hole as he touches him. His fingers creep closer and Steve parts his legs a little more, offering himself.

“Tell me about what you like and want from me,” Bucky says, quietly. “I’m asking about your hole, but you don’t have to answer just about that.”

“I like… what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, I can feel you soaking my thigh with that juicy cock of yours.” Steve buries his face, embarrassed.

“The serum made it that way. Sharon said—” he shuts up. He doesn’t want to talk about her.

“What did she say?”

“She said I got wetter than she did. It was how she knew if I wasn’t all that into it. Being hard wasn’t enough, she wanted me to make a wet spot but she didn’t like it all that much, either. Just made me feel… kind of gross.”

“Well, there’s one difference between this relationship and your last one. I like your cock. I like you wet. I want you dripping.”

“What about… I came a lot,” he says, embarrassed.

Bucky chuckles, amused. “You did. I like it. It’s really fucking hot.”

“It’s awful. That’s never happened before. I’m hoping it will go away.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see. We need to put towels down. That’s the main reason I dragged you straight into the shower. There’s a hell of a wet spot.”

Steve presses his face into his arm, embarrassed.

“God, I love your ass. And I love your hole. My hole. There will be a lot of days where you won’t want to sit down, babydoll.”

He has to see Bucky’s face. He looks back again, just as Bucky’s finger finally grazes his hole. He looks like he’s in pain, like Steve’s hole is paradise. Bucky’s rock hard still, Steve can feel it against his hip, the head prodding him. He clenches his hole and pushes back a little, offering himself. “Daddy?”

“How do you feel about that, baby?” he asks, and presses his finger into him, just to the first knuckle, just a hint of what’s to come, but it’s the most of Bucky he’s felt inside him and he drops his head and moans, grinds back. 

“Want your cock in me. Your fingers. I want you to take my ass whenever you want. It’s yours. And, even… even when you want to get off, you should use my ass. I don’t have to come, too. You won’t hurt me. Even if you’re really rough, even if…,” he swallows hard. It’s difficult to say, because they both know this is what Steve fantasizes about, what he likes, he isn’t half so subtle as he wanted to be. “Even if you ruin it, you won’t really. I can always take more.”

“You can always take more or you always want more?”

He blinks back tears. Nods.

“Tell daddy. Show me your face. Those pretty, pretty tears.”

He looks back, blinks until his vision clears. “I always want more.”

“Greedy?”

“S-slutty,” he whispers, pressing his head into his arms. Bucky lifts his hands away, opens the bottle of slick and drizzles it, cool on Steve’s hole.

“Fuck, you should see how it shines in the light. I can’t believe I’m waiting to fuck you. But, you deserve it. I want to do right by you and your sweet, little boy pussy.

Steve hides his face again, whimpering at the comment. Bucky hushes him, fingertip gliding over him and pressing in. Steve arches his back, tilts his hips and wiggles, wanting him deeper. “Two, daddy. Don’t like starting with one.”

“Look at you. You don’t need one, do you? Yeah, you open right up. Greedy isn’t the right word, is it, babydoll?”

“No.” Steve’s heart is pounding.

“What’s the right word. How do we describe this hole? Besides, daddy’s.”

Steve humps his thigh, grinding his cock hard into Bucky’s leg at the casual claiming. He needs to come. “Daddy?” he plants his feet on the floor better and fucks into Bucky’s thigh, uncomfortable but good enough, he’s so turned on.

“No. Settle down.” Bucky’s fingers leave his ass, his hand presses into Steve’s lower back. “Stop.”

Steve groans and stops, breathing heavily. Bucky really is a sadistic asshole. Bucky’s fingers slide back into him almost immediately, his clean hand still on Steve’s lower back, keeping him there.

His cock twitches and pulses, he can feel it drooling as Bucky grazes his prostate.

“Fuck. It feels so much better with you doing it.”

“Good,” Bucky murmurs, fingers so big inside him. Even though it’s two and that’s not nearly enough, the combination of being where he is, with Bucky and under his control makes this better than anything he’s ever done to himself. 

Steve tenses, Bucky doesn’t stop gently rubbing him. “Daddy. Daddy. Fuck, I’ll come. It’s too good.”

“Go on ahead and come.”

He relaxes, lets Bucky’s fingers push him to climax, enjoying the touch as he lays there and doesn’t fight it.

“So pretty. Go ahead and empty those balls, sweetheart. Come in daddy’s lap like my good boy.” Steve’s hand goes back, awkwardly touching Bucky’s hand on his lower back, needing to connect with him.

“Daddy? Come daddy?”

“Whenever you want.”

Steve moans, gets that final touch that sends him over and comes long and hard, wiggling frantically to get pressure against his cock.

“Stop moving. Daddy will rub it out of you.” Bucky works Steve’s prostate and there’s a weird echo of it in his balls, like he’s making them kick and release, pulse as he wants.

“Daddy,” he gasps, feeling owned and a little frightened by how much control Bucky has over his body, how he comes. He gets sensitive and clenches. Bucky’s hand presses against his back.

“Relax. Let me. Daddy’s taking care of you now.”

“I don’t…. I don’t like it now,” he whispers, uncertainly. “Daddy, I don’t,” he whimpers, feeling like he might pee.

“Stop fussing. This is what daddy wants to give you right now.”

Steve moves his forearm, sucks on the heel of his hand, soothing himself as he lets Bucky work inside his body. He sniffles and can’t breathe easily through his nose, gasps and hauls in a breath, tries to stay calm as Bucky keeps playing and rubbing.

Bucky pulls his fingers out, there’s more lube and then there’s three pressing into him. “Oh! Fuck. Can’t. Daddy, daddy, _please_.”

“Almost there. You have more to give me, that’s all. Daddy gets everything. I think we’ll need to put you to bed empty, sweetheart. See how you like that.”

“That’s not, what if I pee?”

“You won’t. And if you do, we’ll clean it up.”

“No, daddy, I don’t want to pee.”

“Hush. You won’t. Stop fussing. I mean it. Lay there and take this. We’re almost done. If you really can’t take it, say red.”

“I can, I just… _daddy_. Oh, no. I…. Oh, it’s coming daddy. Dammit, I’m going to come. Fuck, it’s so big. Please? Please?”

Bucky makes a non-committal sound and Steve gets shoved higher, grits his teeth, as the climax looms, it’s going to feel so fucking good, he’ll never need to come again, it’s going to be that good. He moans loudly and then— it’s gone.

The pleasure is just gone, his cock is wet and drooling, balls emptying as something gives inside him, Bucky’s fingers pressing into his prostate and it’s like all of him clenches up and lets go.

He worries he’s peeing. He whimpers, startled. Bucky holds him still as he finishes emptying. There’s even more wetness. Bucky stills but his fingers stay inside him. “Is that better, baby? Do you feel good now?”

“I… I have no idea.” He’s pretty sure the answer is no. What about his fucking orgasm?

Bucky laughs, squeezes his ass cheeks, pulls his cheeks apart and stares at his hole. “Look how much you need a cock. Give me a word for this hole.”

“Daddy’s,” he offers, passage clenching in agreement.

“No, I know that one,” he says, with certainty. “What’s the other one. Go on.”

“Empty. _Empty_, daddy.”

“That’s right. That’s exactly the word I was thinking, my good boy. I think this is going to be your safe place. Over daddy’s lap with something in your hole. My fingers. Your fingers. A toy. Daddy’s cock won’t be able to keep up with how much this hole needs. How much love we’re going to give it. What about plugs?”

“That’s not… I don’t use them,” he says, cock beginning to soften and he’s so tired suddenly. Good tired. 

“I’m surprised. Why not?”

He doesn’t want to say. Bucky’s clean hand sweeps up his back and runs through his hair, presses gently on the back of his neck.

“I loved it too much. It felt so good. Like… safety. I didn’t go to work. I was supposed to go in for a meeting, just a stupid meeting, and lunch with Sharon, but I put it in and I just… I fell apart. I had to go to bed, just laid there all full and good. I fell asleep with it in and I kept having to come. It was just… it was too perfect. It was all I could think about so I had to get rid of it,” he confesses and starts crying. Which is annoying. “Fuck. Can I just say how annoying it is to be crying over throwing away a plug? Jesus Christ.”

“Come here, pretty baby,” Bucky says, voice rough with desire. Bucky’s fingers leave his ass and he wipes them on the towel as Steve shifts, sitting in his lap and pressing his forehead to Bucky’s neck. Steve’s ass feels wet and a little open. He’s so tired and fucked out. He’s so quiet inside and good. Perfect. It is a feeling.

“Thank you for telling me. I want that for you. For you to feel that safe and good. Is that okay? If I plug you up sometimes, when we’re together and I think you need it?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Good boy. Perfect boy with that empty hole. Daddy will fill you up, babydoll. You won’t be empty anymore.”

“Daddy,” He buries his face deeper, clutching him hard. “It’s been a lot today,” he whispers.

“It has. Stevie, I don’t want to leave you alone tonight. We’ve done a hell of a lot and I just wouldn’t feel right about it. Can I stay?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good. It’s late and we need to go to bed but daddy needs to take care of himself, first. I’m going to come and feed it to you, then we’ll sleep.”

“Okay.” Fucking finally.

“Good boy, move a little, spread your legs so I can jerk myself off. I’m going to come on your stomach.”

“Daddy,” he whispers, and holds him tight, looks down so he can see Bucky’s hand on his own cock.

“Fuck.” Bucky tries to move, legs spread a little wider as he puts his other hand on his balls, stroking them as he jerks himself off. “You get me so hard, baby. Tell daddy about your hole. When you started playing with it. Make daddy come and kiss my neck.”

“I…” he wants to protest, but the sight of Bucky’s hand on his cock is too good, he can’t look away. This is how he gets to be involved, what his daddy wants. “I always knew,” he says, slowly, shy with the confession of it all.

“Yeah? Fuck, baby. Tell me.”

“I was… twelve. In the bath and jerking off all the time and I dropped the soap and it slid down, kind of stroked against my hole and my fingers were just there, pressing and rubbing and it felt so good but it wasn’t enough. It drove me mad and I spent so much time with my hand down my pants, touching my hole and pressing fingers in with spit and then vaseline.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You’re going to make daddy come so hard. That better be what you want, sweetheart.”

“I do want it. You know I do. Why can’t I have your cock? Daddy. Just put it in my hole. Please, please.” Steve rises up, intending to just sit on it, give them what they both need. He’s so close.

“Don’t you _dare_,” he growls, and he stops touching his balls, hand clamping hard on Steve’s shoulder to keep him seated and not rising up.

Steve pants and feels a tremble running through him. He messed up. He was naughty. “Sorry, daddy.”

“Shit. I’m going to come and I don’t have my hand on my balls.” He grunts and comes, aims it at his own stomach, coming in large spurts. When he’s finished his hand drops away, his head goes back as he catches his breath.

“Go on now. Kitten licks. Take your time,” he says, voice raspy as he recovers.

Steve slinks down to the ground, licks gently at the come, tastes it and swallows. It’s bitter and salty. It’s warm and the consistency isn’t something to dwell on. Bucky’s hand lands on his head. “Look to me. Show daddy how much you like it.”

He nods. Licks again, makes an effort to roll the flavor around in his mouth. Bucky stills him, gets a bit on his finger and put it on Steve’s lower lip. Steve licks. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“I know, my good boy.”

He shakes his head. Bucky dots more come on his lip and he sucks the lip into his mouth, swallowing eagerly. “It wasn’t as good for you because of me,” he says, tears filling his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said that. As soon as I said it, I realized it was too much.You made me come so hard and you were just trying to please me and I said a shitty thing like that. I’m sorry,” he whispers, and puts more come on Steve’s lips. “It’s late, let’s let it go.”

He ducks down, kisses Bucky’s stomach and a big glob of come, getting it on his lips and pulling back. “I don’t know what to do with that apology.”

Bucky chuckles. “You say, I forgive you, daddy. Or, that’s okay, daddy. Or, it hurt my feelings, daddy. You can even say, it hurt me and I need you to make it better.”

The tears spill down his face. His daddy is so good to him. So patient and kind. “I forgive you, daddy. You’re… you’re staying the night?”

“I am.”

“I need you to hold me and I’ll be okay.”

“Beautiful, Steve. Lovely,” hesays, and he takes Steve by the hair, guides him to the come and holds him there while Steve licks and swallows every last drop. When hepulls back, Bucky leans closer, kisses it off his nose and his chin, feeds it to Steve with his tongue and his own lips and then leads them both to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is Bucky's POV!
> 
> My dudes! (That's gender neutral btw. I'm in California, it's what we say.) I guess I have to add coming untouched to the tags. which sounds better than premature ejaculation but is there really a difference? that may be a legitimate question.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve gets the call at 2 am. He fumbles for his phone, pulling out of Bucky’s hold and manages to sound fairly awake when he answers. Steve listens for a solid fifteen seconds to whoever is talking to. “Got it. I’ll be there in 20,” he says, in a voice Bucky has never heard before.

Jesus, he really is in bed with Captain America. That’s weird. Steve gets out of bed, gloriously, beautifully naked. “I have to go. I’ll call you.”

Bucky sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Ifyou were anyone else I’d think it was a ploy to get rid of me.”

Steve laughs, which means Bucky has to stare at him because Steve Rogers is transformed when he laughs.

Steve throws him a smile as he goes to his closet. Bucky gets dressed, is just buttoning his pants and making sure he has his wallet when Steve comes back out. He’s in his uniform.

“Oh,” Bucky says, quietly, the unreality of it all hitting him. Steve disappears again and comes back with the shield. He almost says, ‘hey look, you have a shield like Captain America,’ but this is it. _The_ shield._ The_ man.

He knew Steve was Captain America. But seeing the shield and the outfit is different. Seeing Steve when he’s being this other person is different, too. He holds himself differently. More distant. Steve fiddles with his belt and Bucky has to wonder what all the pouches are for. Can he get Steve to go through the contents for him? While wearing the uniform?

“Huh,” Bucky says, like a moron. Steve gives him a look, there’s a frown between his brows. Bucky has no way to finish that sentence. If Steve knew how much he liked this stupid uniform, there’d be a problem. If Steve said, ‘fuck my ass right now,’ Bucky’s pretty sure he would. Plans for making it special be damned.

Steve reaches for his shield, which means bending over the bed, and puts it on his back. The long line of stretch as his arm goes behind him just accentuates his tapered waist.

“How desperate are things?” Bucky asks, having to adjust himself.

Steve blushes.

“I’m kidding. I mean, I’m _not_ kidding, I want to do so many things toyou in that uniform, but I realize you have to go.” Steve nods in that half-shy, half ‘I’m not completely sure you’re talking to me, so I’ll just respond a little and if it wasn’t me you were talking to then maybe you won’t have noticed and won’t make fun of me.’ Which is… the real Steve. His Steve.

“Sweetheart,” he says, because it turns out there just aren’t too many endearments he can give Steve. Steve swallows before he looks at him, cheeks going a little pink in pleasure, truly it’s kind of ridiculous how easy it is to shower him with little bits of happiness. “I really want to know if you’re going to be okay and how long you’re going to be gone.”

Steve stands up to his full height, has his boots on and takes a step closer to Bucky, nothing but pure, confident (hetero as hell) all-american beef cake. The Captain America persona.

Hmm.

Steve manages to look down at him because Bucky hasn’t found his shoes yet and Steve is actually taller than him. “Do we finally get to have a conversation about _Doctor_ Barnes’ fetishes now?”

Bucky gives him a leer. “The list is definitely growing,” he says, putting his metal hand on the back of Steve’s neck and giving him a squeeze.

Steve shivers, takes a deep breath in, his eyes closing. Bucky’s never seen anyone surrender so fast. Go from defensive, almost fearful of being rejected to vulnerable displays of emotion. “There’s my boy. Go do your mission, be safe and when you come home I’m going to do really depraved things to you and then feed you breakfast.”

He slides his hand off of Steve. Steve who is worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and looking away from him. Steve puts on his glove, addresses the question to the glove. “Because you’d stay the night again?”

“Yeah, if it’s okay with you.”

He gives Bucky a quick nod, ducking his head. “I think… always. Honestly, I’m so pissed off that I have to leave right now,” he says, and has to stop talking. Steve lets out a long breath, reining himself in. Steve looks around the bed. “Fuck,” he says, looking for the other glove.

“It’s here,” Bucky says, picking it up from where it’s hidden in a half fold of bedding. He comes around the bed and holds it out. Steve’s hand isn’t all that steady as Bucky puts it on him.

He keeps his voice low, wants Steve content before he goes. They both need it. “You go and do what needs to be done. You take care of yourself and everyone else and then you come home to _me_. Do you understand? I don’t care what time you get back, you call me.”

Steve nods. His lips part. A silent request. Bucky kisses him softly. “I’ll put you back together. I can tear you apart. You’re mine and I’ll take care of you, whatever you need. Just be safe.”

“What if I don’t know what I need?”

“Then we’ll work it out.” Steve is basically ready to go. Bucky puts on his shoes. “Call me if you want.”

Steve shakes his head, his jaw is hard enough that Bucky can see the muscle jump. “I don’t think I can. Not when I’m on the job. That’s too distracting.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Just so long as you know you can.”

“Okay. Thank you… daddy.”

Bucky tries to hide his surprise that Steve said it. It’s incredible how close to the surface that part of Steve always is. For him. Only Bucky. “Good boy. Go save the fucking world. Is it the world?”

“I don’t know. I fucking hope not,” he says, and pauses, just before he leaves the bedroom. A flash of longing comes over Steve’s face. Bucky follows his gaze, grabs the scarf.

He goes to put it around Steve’s neck. “Bucky, I— what if I lose it?” he whispers, but stays still while Bucky gets it on him.

“Then I get another one. I don’t care.”

“I shouldn’t, I don’t need it. It’s ridiculous,” he says, even as his hand is clutching it to his chest.

Bucky grabs hold of the material, gives a pretty hard yank, which has no affect on Steve at all, and says, “You said no, daddy said yes. Take the fucking scarf.”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, very quietly. Steve adjusts himself as they walk out together. Steve gives him a quick kiss, hops on his motorcycle and drives off into the night. He’s gorgeous.

He really _is_ Captain America. That’s so _weird._

Bucky runs his hand through his hair, shivering in the cold. It’s the middle of the fucking night. Christ. Captain America is his good boy. It’s absolutely insane.

“I am totally fucked,” he says, to the universe, and heads for his apartment in the opposite direction.

****

Bucky buys dinner for his friend Sam that first night after Steve is gone. He needs to talk to someone and the last two days he’s either been with Steve, at work or obsessing about Steve.

His boy. Who’s a bit of a brat. A brat with a heart of gold. Who’s Captain America. And has serious PTSD, a few anxieties, at least one of which seems to be separation anxiety from him, as well as some other things to work on.

He’s incredible. He’s out there, right now, saving the fucking world. And putting his life in danger. The thought of that makes Bucky want to puke so he tries not to. He can’t help him right now, dwelling on it is pointless. Bucky needs to save his concern for when Steve comes back, channel it into taking care of his boy.

He has other, very unpleasant things to think about at the moment. The biggest of which is that if anyone finds out about their relationship Bucky will definitely lose his license. One doesn’t really get more famous than Steve. People will figure it out. Bucky really fucking needs to talk to someone about the blond Adonis (Sharon wasn’t wrong about that, at least) that’s crashed into his life.

Sam’s a therapist at the VA and not only is he gay, but he’s kinky. They’d actually met at a human hog tying contest a few years back.

It’s like it sounds.

There was also a kinky ren fair vibe going on and a hell of a lot of beer and lechery. It had been a good time. They’d seen each other around at events every now and again over the years and now they were friends.

They’ve both had their share of shitty relationships, but Bucky is about to blow them all out of the water. “I’m waiting for you to tell me,” Sam says, slurping the straw of his milkshake.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah. You look miserable _and_ like you got laid. Is it worse than my lost weekend with Furry Ron?” Sam shudders at the memory. “I swore I’d never say that name again.”

“I told you he was bad news from the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, that was so 2015. Live and learn.” Sam is staring at him. “You were supposed to say it wasn’t as bad as Furry Ron.”

“It isn’t. But, it’s… complicated.”

Sam makes a lay it on me/grabby hands gesture. He loves gossip. But, he can keep his mouth shut. Bucky should have planned this out better. What he was going to say. “Right. So, I had a couple’s counseling session. We met a couple times and then they broke up.”

“_That’s_ where you’re starting whatever you’re going to tell me about why you look relaxed and nauseous? Oh, so this is _career_ ending bad?”

“Yeah,” he says, and has to make sure the top button of his shirt is undone because he does feel vaguely like he’s choking. “Completely career ending bad.” He hasn’t had to say it aloud before now. “But, well, he is the most beautiful, kind, masochistic, charming, daddy’s boy you have ever seen. The first time I met him—”

“When he was there with his girlfriend?” Sam asks, interrupting.

“Uh huh,” Bucky says, eating a fry and maybe buying time. He’s pretty sure this is a slow motion car crash. “He definitely gave off a vibe, but I wasn’t sure what it was. He was so defensive. And then, when I saw him again, it just disappeared. He’s… old fashioned in some ways, had a pretty conservative upbringing you could say, when it comes to gender roles and sexuality. He is like this beacon of needy boy goodness. He cries like—”

“I thought you wanted advice, not to convince me he’s god’s gift to the kinky gays.”

“If he came out, he might be.”

“Oh god, he _won’t come out_?” Sam is practically shouting.

“Keep your damned voice down! There’s kids… somewhere,” he says, looking around. Except for someone reading a newspaper a few booths away, the whole place is empty. Even their waitress seems to have left. “It’s complicated,” he says, again. It sounds pathetic to his own ears. 

“Ugh. It always is. Get out now. This is bad news. You’re going to lose your career over someone who is sexually confused, has no kinky experience, and is how old?”

“Umm…27 ish?”

“So, he’s younger than you. Shocker. And _you’re_ his gay awakening?”

“Well, you know, he could do worse. I get hit on,” he says, running his hand through his hair. He smirks and Sam glares. There’s been more than one occasion of Sam mocking his ability to get dates based strictly on his hair.

“If you mention those god damned twins, I will leave you to your ethical and moral dilemma. They only liked you because you got there earlier than I did.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bucky says, willing to concede any damned thing Sam wants so long as he’ll listen and… help him. If he can be helped. Whatever that may be. “There were extenuating circumstances as to why he didn’t experiment until now.”

“Of course there were,” he says, looking at Bucky with disgust. “Conservative upbringing? Internalized homophobia?”

“Those are legitimate reasons. _Look,_ put the judgement aside and fucking give me some advice. This is my Furry Ron moment. I drove to Kansas Fucking City to bail you out of jail for that rat.”

“Fox.”

“I don’t fucking care. You owe me and I’m calling it all in. Every god damned piece of rope you never gave back, when you lost my whole bag of floggers, this is the moment,” he says, unsure if he’s pissed off, about to break down in tears or have a panic attack.

Sam nods and winces. “Okay. I get it. I’ll try.”

“Thanks ever fucking so,” he says. He didn’t shout, so there’s that. But, he is… there’s definitely a lot of emotion around this whole thing. It’s his livelihood, his reputation, and he can’t see any way to reconcile that with keeping Steve. When he’s with Steve, there is no question. When he isn’t with Steve, there is no question. But, none of that is the real world. The real world is sitting in front of him. The kindest, most understanding and supportive version of the outside world and it’s a disaster.

“Okay, Let’s start again,” Sam says, “You’re entering into an unequal power dynamic relationship, with a patient, who is exploring his sexuality and submissive desires and what else?”

“Former patient.”

“Right. Newly single, former patient.” Sam pretends to clap. “So much better. Let me guess, does he call you master?” he says, voice filled with disgust.

“Uh, no. He thought he wanted a master, but he needs a daddy.”

“Oh god. Did he call you master already? That’s so lame.”

“Shut _up_! It was kind of adorable. He said it and clearly knew it wasn’t right. He’s sincere. He’s just… earnest and naive.”

“I’m gonna barf. He sounds like a nightmare, _daddy_.”

Bucky holds up a finger. “But, wait. It gets worse.”

“How?” Sam asks, incredulously.

“He’s famous. I think… I _know_ we are going to stay together, which means his ex will undoubtedly find out and will most likely report me.” Sam’s mouth is literally hanging open.

“So, you need to end it _immediately_.”

Bucky eats a fry, hoping it looks like he’s seriously thinking about what Sam is saying. He isn’t. “I can’t do that.”

Sam drops his burger onto his plate. “I don’t care how famous he is, or how hot he is, or how sweetly he says daddy while you fuck him up the ass, this is your _career_, and a month from now, six months from now, when you’re sleeping on my couch, regretting your life choices and your own Furry Ron, this will be the moment we look back upon. You’ve seen him how many times?”

“A… few.”

“Give me a number.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s a connection and the time has been meaningful.” That sounds stupid.

“So, this is a handful of hours? You’re a god damned idiot. That’s my advice. _End it_. Fucking end it,” he says, almost shouting. “Let’s call Chad. Get him down here for a weekend and he can take your mind off it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to call a former fuck buddy I haven’t seen in a year so I can distract myself from Steve.”

“His name is _Steve_? Is that a name we’re still doing?”

“That’s the least of my problems.”

Sam wipes his hand on his napkin. “How’s his mental health other than the sex therapy? Has he done therapy? You know my opinions on getting involved with anyone who’s not done therapy, but particularly submissive masochists. You agree with me on that,” he says, like he has to remind Bucky of who he is and what he believes.

“He’s… fuck, he’s open to therapy and he _will_ be going. I told him it had to happen and he’s agreed.”

“Wait. You’ve already given him a therapy ultimatum?”

“Not like that. It’s not like he’s done anything or is violent or something. He’s a veteran, he’s got PTSD and some depression, but he’s adjusting. He’s kind of newish to the area and you know how hard that can be for people.”

“Is he violent? Are you concerned about the PTSD? What’s he do now?”

Bucky wishes he’d never come here. This isn’t going well. Sam isn’t wrong, but he also isn’t right. “Like… law enforcement. Sort of?”

Sam grimaces. “Cop, too? There are enough red flags here to… whatever you do with a lot of flags. You know it, and you’re thinking with your dick. You don’t want to listen to my advice, and I am not going to tell you this is a good idea. You’re buying me dinner for nothing. It’s your _fucking_ _career_. Come on, you’re _smarter_ than this.”

Bucky pushes his plate away from him. Has a drink of water. Looks around. The waitress is likely hiding in the back and he can’t fucking blame her. He wants to hide in the back. He takes a deep breath. If he can’t get Sam on his side then he’s fucked. And, he isn’t here just for advice.

“I know you’re right. I’ve thought about this. I _know._ I’m not a reckless person. Can you not entertain the possibility that if I’m willing to be this stupid over someone that they must be….” He hesitates. It’s a little unicorns and bullshit to say Steve is ‘the one.’

“Finish that fucking sentence about your newbie, I dare you.”

“I literally _hate_ myself for saying it. I know it’s dumb and if I heard someone else say it, I’d think it was bullshit. It’s cliche’d as hell, but this guy is _the one._ If there is such a thing as a soulmate, it’s him.” Okay, he wishes he could take that part back, because the moment you say something woo woo like soulmates (which he doesn’t _really_ believe in) then you’ve already lost the argument.

“Are you fucking with me? Are we on TV?” Sam asks, looking around. “Look, you’ve already decided. So, what’s the point? What do you want me to say?” Sam asks, suddenly serious and clearly very concerned that Bucky is totally fucking up his life.

It’s the first pause in the conversation, where most of the facts are out and the judgement is sitting between them and Bucky knows it’s warranted. Objectively, Sam is right. Bucky will be a social pariah amongst his peers, hell maybe in the kink scene too if people find out he’s dating a former patient. Maybe it would be different if Steve was the dominant, but he isn’t.

Sam isn’t even looking at him anymore. He’s staring off into the distance and can’t even look at him.It’s one thing to know it’s a big decision and that consequences are hurtling towards him, but now it feels like they’re here, this is the first little reality check, with someone who is completely on Bucky’s side, who will give him the benefit of the doubt, and it’s a disaster.

He has to clear his throat before he can speak. “I was his therapist long enough to know that he’s vulnerable, he desperately wants to throw himself into a power imbalance relationship, and I want to as well. He’s just gone out of town for a few days with work, but when he comes back I want to have him move in with me. I don’t… I don’t want him on his own. And, I don’t want to be without him. If I’m going to blow everything to shit, then I might as well do it properly. And, he needs a collar. If he wants marriage and the dog and all of that, then I will do that too. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not immediately,” he says, holding out his hands for Sam to wait. “But, there is _just enough_ of a decent part of me that can’t help but worry that I’m not being fair to him. That he’s broken up with his girlfriend, and I’m taking advantage of him when he’s vulnerable, and I don’t like the possibility of that regret between us. He deserves better than that.”

“_He_ deserves better than that?” Sam asks, pointedly, but then, mercifully, shuts up. “Does he understand that you’re putting everything on the line? Can you trust him to not report you if or when things end?”

“I don’t know if he does, I’m guessing not. And… I don’t think that’s something he needs to know.”

“Why not?”

“I think if he knew, he’d end it. He’s got a serious hero complex and giving up the man he… cares about would fit right in with that. Leave me to save me, he’d be all over that.”

Sam looks even more disgusted. 

“Maybe we look back on it and it’s fine. Or, maybe, I look back on it as the worst thing I’ve ever done, or he does, and there’s bitterness and this poison in our relationship.”

“Those things are all possible. What am I supposed to tell you? What exactly is your question?”

“I guess… my question is, knowing me, can I do right by him? Assuming he’s solid and he’s content with whatever we work out, is it just _too_ unfair and I’m taking advantage of him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never— _oh no._ You want me to meet him, don’t you?”

“I think you would like him. In fact, I’ll bet you a hundred dollars you will think he’s fucking amazing. He could use a normal friend or two.” Sam rolls his eyes.

“But, um, actually, he’s an artist. I was kind of wondering if you’d think about letting him teach a class, like a free weekly drawing class for veterans once a week? If that was even possible.” It sounded like a much better idea in his head.

“You’re sending him to therapy, getting him friends, and finding him volunteer activities?”

“He still has to do all the hard work of turning up and engaging. I’m not going to live his life or do his homework for him, but I’m going to make sure it gets done.”

He can tell Sam hates absolutely all of this. “He’s pretty lucky to have someone scrambling to pick up the pieces of his life and help him out,” Sam says, flatly.

“It isn’t one-sided,” Bucky says.

“I don’t know. What’s he giving you?”

He starts to shrug. “Just… everything. Affection, devotion, obedience, support… himself.”

“So you’re here, putting it all on the line, however many years of friendship we have, to ask for a favor and it isn’t for you, but him?”

“If it’s for him then it is for me.” 

Sam gets the ‘I just threw up in my mouth a little look’ on his face. “Is he… good with people?” Sam asks, sounding tired.

“Yeah. Everyone who meets him, loves him.”

Sam sighs. “I’ll meet him. If somehow he’s as great as you think he is, then I’ll contemplate a drawing class. _Volunteer_.”

“Good enough.”

Sam stabs his straw into his milkshake a few times. “Can’t you at least wait a few months before moving in together? There is no way, no matter how cosmic your connection, that he thinks you’re going to move in together already. Surely, you _both _aren’t this nuts.”

“Maybe.” He’s pretty sure Steve is just as stupid about him. “No, you’re right,” he says, trying to make himself believe it. “I can stay the night, he can stay the night. As long as I don’t move clothes over or something, it should be fine.”

“Yes! There is something sensible. Good. Progress. Okay. And, you might send him to a Submissive Safe Space meeting or something, too. Let him get some friends and talk it through with people so he knows this is what he really wants.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. If he won’t go, maybe I can get Molly or Hana to talk to him.”

“Yes, sane submissives who will vouch for you and talk to him are a good idea. You’re a good guy. It sounds like you’re trying your best despite the siren call of this guy’s sweet ass. So, just so we’re on the same page, you _won’t_ ask him to marry you, move in with you, none of that, for months. That means more than one. If you can’t end it, then you’re at least in some kind of self-preservation mode. What about the ex, what is she like?”

“I don’t think the ex is likely to let it go. I think she _is_ very likely to find out. Jesus. Maybe she’s already found out.”

“What, is she a stalker?”

“No, she just— oh _shit,_” Bucky says, vehemently.

Sam follows his gaze, turning around to watch as Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow and pal of Steve Rogers comes towards them. There is definitely not a smile on her face. She stops at their booth, tilts her chin and Sam scoots over.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam says, giving her a look that Bucky thinks is more than a little reckless. You know, if Sam likes his dick attached to his body. Bucky looks around the restaurant.

“You were reading the newspaper and listening in on our conversation.”

She shrugs. “Why do kinky people always talk sex in public?”

“He lives far away, this is the halfway point,” Bucky says, weakly. She’s not wrong, he has had some unbelievably inappropriate conversations in restaurants. “Besides, you weren’t technically close enough to hear most of it.” He checks for a listening device. She taps her ear. It’s small.

She nods. “Stark. I believe you met him the other day?”

Tony! Bucky was wrong. Tony is a dick and Steve should not invite him over for dinner.

“He was very intrigued,” she says, huskily. 

“My name is Sam Wilson,” he says, in his smoothest voice.

She ignores him. “Let’s recap. What are your intentions with Steve?”

“Oh, he’s gonna marry him. Tank his career and everything,” Sam says, unhelpfully.

“Why does it hurt your career?”

“It’s none of your business,” Bucky says.

“Sharon has been transferred. She’s leaving for Berlin. Two year posting. She can’t possibly care by then. And she wants him to be happy. I don’t think she’ll be a problem, even if she does find out, but I’ll keep her email and phone tapped to pick up any chatter if she mentions him.”

“So… I probably won’t lose my license?”

Her grin is wolfish. “Not if you don’t fuck it up. SHIELD is pretty invested in his happiness. He’s been on a mission for 14 hours and I’ve had five separate phone calls asking me if he’s on drugs, been replaced by a robot, brainwashed, etc. He made a joke and Hawkeye almost fell out of his perch. Apparently, it was even funny. He hasn’t tried to kill himself once yet. He actually used a parachute.”

Bucky can’t help looking at Sam. Sam who’s looking from Bucky to Black Widow over and over again, trying to work it all out.

“What about him? Can he keep his mouth shut?” she asks, jerking her head towards Sam.

“Yeah. Yes. Sam is my best friend and I uh, had left out enough detail to not give it away. You know, until Steve’s ready, it’s not my secret to tell.”

She taps her nails on the table and stands up. “Steve’s a hard nut to crack. I like you. It’s going to be really hard never saying he’s a good boy, but I think I’ve got bigger secrets I’m keeping. Don’t hurt him or I’ll find you.”

“Does everyone know? All of his… work friends?”

She snorts. “No. Tony’s curious but easily distracted. If Steve hadn’t been so damned happy we might have left it alone. Happy is a good look on him. Keep up the good work.”

She walks out the door. Sam watches her go. Bucky is mildly stunned. This is… good. Isn’t it? Because he kind of feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

Sam’s eyes are wide when he turns back around. “I’m going to ask you this once and you’ve gotta be straight with me. Is Captain America calling you daddy?”

“Yes, and if you tell anyone, she will kill you.”

“Oh, I know. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But, forget everything I said. This is Steve _Fucking_ Rogers. You better lock that shit down. You get him a collar, I’ll bring the U-haul— When do I get to meet him?”

“What about his PTSD and how he’s a questioning newbie?” Bucky demands, because Sam gave him a lot of shit. But, the relief rushing through him is better than the one hit of speed he did in college.

“Fine. I’ll say it once and only once. For once in your life, you were right. Even the blind squirrel gets a nut sometimes. And he can _definitely_ teach a drawing class.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is something minor, but which I can't tell anyone else besides you fine folks because a. no one would care and b. it's relevant to the story. I was in bed and it was midnight and i was thinking about the story and realized i'd made mention of the enema and how there wasn't an enema in the last chapter. I'd spent so long working on the story yesterday and the chapter after this one that i got totally confused when i posted the comment. so if you were like, where is it, what's this random warning for, uh, it's tomorrow. My bad.
> 
> Bucky's POV finally happened!?! Thoughts??? And Sam! And Nat! and minor angst which is basically resolved bc we're in the middle of a pandemic for fuck's sake and we deserve nice things.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much on your comments from yesterday's chapter. I was a little nervous about doing Bucky's POV and i know some of you were too, but it landed! So, i'm hoping he'll get another chapter at some point if he meets all of the avengers. I'll keep you posted. I do need to still respond to a few of you and I'm sorry I'm a little behind. on the plus side, the plethora of comments has made this all worthwhile so I don't know how much more of this story people want but there's gotta be at least another several days worth. Stay safe. Buy Eggs. 
> 
> Oh. THIS IS THE ENEMA CHAPTER. i don't think it warranted all caps. i think it's also been over hyped. sorry, dudes.

_How serious was that offer?_ Steve types, two days later. His hands are shaking and he’s getting blood on his phone. It takes more than a few tries just to get the words spelled right, he’s such a disaster.

He gets a response back almost instantly. He’d been worried he’d have to wait a few hours, if Bucky had appointments. _1000%. Where are you?_

He puts his head in his hand, realizes he’s bouncing a leg like he’s some sort of addict waiting to get his next fix.

_“Landing in one hour. Home in 3.”_

_“Want me to meet you there? Have one last appt. I’ll bring food?”_

_“Yes, please.”_

_“See you soon.”_

He slumps back against the wall of the plane and closes his eyes. Tries to think about Bucky. He falls asleep. They land, he gets woken up and limps off the plane. Everyone is quiet. It didn’t go well. It started off well and very quickly descended into carnage before having a final battle the bad guys and getting into a bloody fire fight.

He debriefs and tries to convince his team that they did a good job. They did, but he feels like he didn’t, and therefore he doesn’t think he comes across as all that convincing. He gets to his apartment fifteen minutes before Bucky is supposed to get there, limps up the stairs and sits down on the couch, staring at nothing. Just for a second. He hasn’t even turned the lights on. He should take a shower. Prepare for Bucky.

He hadn’t closed the door, some part of him apparently aware that he wasn’t moving all that well, and wouldn’t want to get up again. He’d thought maybe he’d be in the shower and didn’t want Bucky waiting outside.

“Steve?” Bucky calls from the doorway.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he says, and the lights all flick on. Bucky looks him up and down and he must look awful because Bucky winces, throws the grocery bags down on the table and moves towards him in a rush. Steve shoves to his feet. Bucky comes closer. “I need a shower,” he says, weakly. He can’t bring himself to do more than that. He’s cold and he wants to be warm. He wants to be taken care of. Desperately.

Bucky is peering into his eyes, his hand cups his cheek. “I don’t care. What’s going on, sweetheart? Why are you sitting in the dark?”

He shrugs and nuzzles against Bucky’s hand, sighing heavily. Bucky’s warm and the faintest touch is all it takes for him to start feeling better. Lighter. Safe. Which is a lot to feel for one person when they walk in the door. He should pull away. “What can I do for you, babydoll? Tell me what you need from me right now?”

“I need you to stay,” he says, and Bucky nods. Runs his other hand through Steve’s hair gently.

“I can do that.”

“I need… dinner,” he says, working up to what he really needs.

“Also easy.”

He shakes his head. “D-daddy?” Because that’s the truth. He’s weak and he hurts and he just needs Bucky to be his. _That_.

“Okay. What else do you need, good boy? Do you want what we talked about?”

“I want to be on your lap and you inside me. Want you to say nice things to me… and stay.” Steve hauls in a breath. It feels like this is the last step to the top of the mountain. If he can just go that last bit, he can rest. Fall down and he’ll be okay. “I just, I only want to see you,” he says, looking to Bucky.

“I can give you that. Are you going to obey your daddy?”

He nods. If he tries to say anything else he might fall apart. But, not in a good way. He wouldn’t fall towards Bucky, he’d shut down, curl into himself, find some way to make Bucky leave and then regret it. Alone. 

“Okay,” he whispers, kissing Steve gently on the mouth. “Let’s get you undressed and into the bath. You’re cold. I’ll make dinner while you’re in there and then we’ll settle in front of the tv. How does that sound?”

All he can do is nod. It sounds so fucking good and he just wants to collapse. Bucky leads him through to the bathroom, gets the bath going and Steve sets down his shield. The rest of it, he lets Bucky do. Unbuckling and removing straps, lets him find the zippers on his own.

“You’re beautiful, too,” Steve says, and Bucky glances at him, eyes almost blue. “Don’t let me fuck this up so you leave,” Steve pleads. “Please?”

“I won’t go. Even if it goes wrong, I won’t go.”

That’s the real weight lifted off of him, he realizes, drooping forward, hands reaching for him, wanting him close. He breathes him in, can smell himself as well. That he’s sweaty and gross and reeks of gasoline and smoke.

Steve pulls back. Not yet. He lifts his arms when instructed and tries not to wince as he stretches. His side is a mass of black bruising.

“Oh, baby. Look what they did to you.”

“I’m fine… daddy,” he says, hoping that’s enough to get him what he wants.

“I’ll take care of you. My good, brave boy. Did you help people?”

“I tried,” he rasps, staring at the tub as it fills with water.

“Did you save people?”

“Tried,” he finally whispers, less successfully.

“Look at me. I know you did. Did you try a little or a lot?”

“A lot,” he says. But, he still failed.

“Did you give everything when you tried?”

He did. But, it wasn’t enough. He tries to turn away.

“Answer daddy. Did you try your _very_ best?”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“I don’t know if it ever is. Not really. Disaster happens, bad things happen. You showed up as soon as you could and you did everything you could, risked your own life and used your own strength and there has to be a way to make peace with the outcome. _You_ weren’t the cause and you don’t control the outcome. All you can do is help and you did that.”

“But, there were mistakes. Things that maybe… if I had done faster. Or thought of quicker. If I had been smarter, maybe they’d be alive. People died. I know… I know it makes me… a coward or weak, but I just don’t want to think about it for an hour,” he says, voice breaking.

Bucky kisses him, doesn’t stop until Steve tries to move into him. Pleasure spills through him, heating him up on the inside. He doesn’t deserve it. He pulls away.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain, baby. And your day isn’t done. You have to please me now. And you do that by listening and obeying and trying to just be in the moment with me. I know that’s difficult. Can you try?”

Bucky kneels down to the ground and helps Steve get his boots off, then his pants and his protective cup and undergarments. Steve is unclean. He hates the idea of Bucky on his knees before him, especially when he’s so undeserving.

When he has nothing good to give his daddy. He gets into the bath and his knees stick out. Bucky kneels beside the tub. “Next time you should come to my place. I have a bigger tub.”

Steve blushes at the idea of next time. Of getting to see Bucky’s place and use his tub. That Bucky isn’t revolted and desperate to be rid of him.

The water is almost too hot, cuts stinging as they get purified. The tension is easing away from him, replaced by warmth and a growing awareness that Bucky is here and Bucky is going to make him feel good.

“Pretty baby,” Bucky murmurs, just watching him as Steve sits in the tub.

“I should do an enema.”

“A bath will do,” Bucky says, and Steve knows that’s Bucky’s way of telling him sex isn’t happening. Steve knows he isn’t getting it. He wants it. But, he knows what sort of shape he’s in, and his daddy is too good to do something like that now, when he wouldn’t do it then.

Steve turns away from him. He likes the enema for his own sake. He’ll feel better, and then when Bucky fingers him, he’ll be able to enjoy it more. It’s part of his routine.

“Now clean up and I’ll make dinner,” he says, and he gets to his feet, leaves Steve in the bath.

Steve washes, gets warmed up and is going to change out the bathwater but gets fed up and finishes up in the shower. He cleans his cock and ass carefully, shaves his face and scrubs at his fingernails until there’s no trace of blood or dirt.

Bucky comes back in just as he’s dried off and brushing his teeth.

“How are you?”

“I almost feel like a human again.”

“Progress. Dinner is in 20 minutes. It’s just getting finished off in the oven.”

Steve spits and rinses his mouth. “Do I have time to get cleaned out?”Steve is too scared of the moment to look him in the eye. He spends a long moment rinsing his tooth brush of toothpaste. “I like it. Makes me feel better. Lighter. In control of myself, maybe.”

“Okay. Sure. Do you want me to stay or go?” Bucky asks, coming closer. Steve puts down the toothbrush, fingers on the tile. Bucky is warm and perfect next to him.

Shame and excitement force him to keep looking down. What would Bucky think if he knew just how much Steve wanted him to stay? Just be there with him. Yes, please yes, he wants to beg. He starts to get hard. “I don’t know. Which… part?”

Bucky touches Steve’s arm, his bicep and down to his forearm, picks up Steve’s hand and kisses his fingers. “Don’t press so hard, baby,” he murmurs, and Steve pulls his other hand off the tile like he got burned. The tips of his fingers were white, he was working so hard to keep himself contained.

“Daddy, I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing the palm of Steve’s hand. Steve shivers and turns towards him, pressing clumsily against his body. There’s horrible something trying to bubble up inside him and he doesn’t know if it’s desperation or need, but he moves too fast and bumps Bucky against the wall.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“Shh, it’s fine, baby,” he says, and pulls Steve to him, notching him close with his hand pressed firm on Steve’s ass, between his cheeks so Steve melts and grinds forward.

“I could help you get it set up, I could sit with you while the water works, it’s up to you. The elimination aspect isn’t my favorite part, but if you want me around for that, I will be, and I could help you wash up after. Those are the main things that come to mind. Do you want me to insist?” he asks, and somehow there’s space between them again, Bucky no longer pinned to the wall. That was something, Steve vaguely realizes, but he isn’t sure what.

“You don’t need to. I want it. Please.”

Bucky makes a pleased sound, “Good. I’m proud of you for admitting it, I know it’s tough.” 

Steve gets his kit out from under the sink and lays things out slowly while he thinks. “Um, maybe… w-watch me do it, so you know or whatever. And… stay with me?”

He looks to Bucky and away, needing to make sure this is okay, a legitimate offer that Bucky is happy about. His hands shake as Bucky takes in his enema kit.

It’s so private and he’s a little scared, afraid he might get laughed at or that Bucky might be disgusted and yet… he’s definitely hard. A quick glance at the towel shows that he’s hard and tenting the material. He tries to stand differently, as if he can hide it.

He doesn’t even know if he wants to hide, he just feels like he should. Letting his daddy be here and help him during this is one thing, getting off on it is another. “But then go, I don’t want you hear for… elimination. Umm, yeah, never.”

His hand is shaking too much. He puts it flat on the counter. Tries to take a steadying breath without Bucky realizing just how close he is to freaking out.

“I don’t have to be here at all, Steve. Maybe it’s too much for today.”

“I want it. Want you to. It’s something I… fantasize about. A way to be taken care of, but it’s pretty fucked up. I guess I’m struggling with that.”

“It’s also possible that you’ve been through enough today and maybe another time would be better,” Bucky says, more firmly.

“No. That’s not it. I want it. I’m just scared you don’t. Or you’ll think it’s sick. I’m… fuck, I’m so hard,” he confesses. “You’ll see.”

Bucky’s hand, the metal one, closes in on the back of Steve’s neck and Steve moans a little. Bucky’s clothing brushes against him. Oh god, Bucky is dressed and Steve is practically naked. He hadn’t put that together.

That’s how it should be.

“Good. I’m glad you’re hard. I’m glad you’re ashamed and scared and you still feel the need to tell me. That’s everything, my good boy,” he says, fingers rubbing into the tendons on the side of Steve’s neck.

“Daddy,” he says, reaching for the tubing. He clutches at it. “Want it now.”

“Do you lay down?”

“Yes, please,” he whispers, voice failing him, Bucky becoming more solid and important, his attention becoming hyper-focused on just him.

“Let’s put something down on the ground for you. It’s too cold and hard.”

“I have a towel,” he says, and forces himself to move, gets it from the closet. It’s a large beach towel and he lays it out on the ground. Bucky has the tap running.

“Check the temperature,” he says, holding the bag.

Steve checks it and adjusts so it’s comfortable and Bucky fills it up while Steve stands there like an idiot, watching. Bucky says something to him and he realizes he’s a little spaced out, almost like he’s meditating.

His beautiful daddy is here, helping him. Getting it all ready and taking care of him. It’s a lot.

“Down on the ground, baby,” he orders.

Steve gets down on the ground, head on his arm, eyes closed while he waits. Bucky touches his hip gently, gets the towel from Steve’s bath that was still around his hips, undone. Bucky can see how hard he is. “Good boy. I’m glad you like this.”

He pulls Steve’s cheek open. “There’s daddy’s pretty hole.”

Warmth goes through him at the praise.

“Just a little touch of lube so we can get this inside you. We have to be sweet to this little hole, don’t we?”

He reaches for Bucky, wanting to touch him while his daddy does this for him. He rests his hand on Bucky’s thigh behind him, curls tighter in against himself. The lube is cool and Bucky swipes it over him with only the faintest hesitation, just a moment of letting his finger stay pressed against the very heart of him.

Bucky hums in appreciation, “Yeah, I’m going to get reacquainted with you pretty soon here, babydoll,” he says, in such a low, aroused voice that Steve turns, making Bucky give him a concerned look as he interrupts him with the nozzle still in his hand. But, he needs to see, needs proof that Bucky likes _this_ and wants him like this just as much as it sounds like he does.

“What are you looking for?” Bucky asks, just as Steve’s gaze goes to his groin. Steve lifts a hand, waits for Bucky to nod, places it on Bucky’s cock, almost fully hard. 

It’s such a relief. “You really like this?” Steve asks, now that he’s sure of the answer.

“I do. I like it a lot. I want to take care of you and I want to take care of that pretty hole, too. This gets me both of those things. Now then, turn around. You need to let daddy now.”

Steve whimpers at that, feels the echo of that in his mind as he gets comfortable again. He’s got to let daddy now. He can only take what’s coming to him.

“How about you breathe in and out a few times for me?” Bucky asks. Steve’s eyes are closed. He breathes, lets it settle him. Bucky presses his finger to Steve’s hole again, to let him know it’s about to happen.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing the nozzle into him carefully. It’s thin and flexible, gentle. Steve sighs in relief. It’s such an intimate thing, it’s personal, and letting his daddy do it, trusting him and just laying here makes him feel good and cared for, almost cherished. How special must he be if he gets this?

“Good boy, you took it so well. I’ll turn on the water, okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, voice slurred already. Bucky lets the water flow into him.

“Oh, daddy, it’s coming now,” he whispers.

“There you go, that’s right it is.” He sits down beside him, puts his hand on Steve’s lower stomach. Gentle and careful. When Steve is 2/3 full, he starts to feel it. Gets the first hint of a cramp and weight inside him.

“Daddy?” he whispers. He’s done this so many times. There’s nothing new, it isn’t a big deal, but Bucky smiles at him like this is a trial and Steve is doing a good job.

“Are you feeling it, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Does it feel good?” he asks, and Steve bites his lip. Bucky moved Steve’s bath towel is such a way that it’s pooled in front of him, cock shielded. Steve reaches for it, to let Bucky see, but his confidence runs out.

“I’ll have a look, just make sure you’re feeling alright.” Bucky says, taking over, moves the towel out of the way so he can see Steve’s leaking cock.

“That’s exactly right. What a good boy you are,” he says. Steve’s cock twitches at the praise.

“Like you being here,” he says, which is the biggest understatement ever.

Bucky rubs his stomach gently. “There you go. The bag is empty, sweetheart. It’s in you. Let me take this out now,” he says, and he slips the nozzle out, gets to his feet and cleans it with soap and sets it to dry. He sits back down. Steve has his hands on his stomach. It’s still flat.

“Daddy, I don’t have my watch. Could you get it?”

Bucky gets it and brings it to him and Steve drifts, Bucky’s hand in his hair. Bucky gets him turned over and he whimpers like a giant baby throughout. Bucky looks at him indulgently and tells him he’s doing a good job. He gets a kiss on the cheek and more petting. He loves it. He’s achingly hard.

The cramps get worse. “Daddy. You can go soon. Hurts now. Daddy, I want it to come out.”

“Oh, Steve. It’s almost time, baby. Do you want me to come back? Can I make sure you’re all clean?”

“Yes, please,” he groans, pressing his face into the towel. He hurts, but the relief will be immense. And he’s felt worse, this is pain he chooses, pain that gives him a reward. This is the sort of pain he loves and never gets enough, always wanting to endure a little longer.

“You’re beautiful, Steve.”

“Fuck. I— _daddy_. Go now. Please?”

“Okay. Call me when you need me,” he says, and he leaves Steve in the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Steve gets to his feet carefully and goes into the toilet, does his business and feels so much better. He closes the door to the toilet and gets into the shower, washes his hole until it’s squeaky clean and gets out.

He doesn’t bother to dress. He goes out in his towel. Bucky looks at him in surprise. “All done?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, leaning into him. He feels half asleep but hard, needy. Between the enema and touching his hole in the shower, he’s now leaking steadily, just a constant drool of pent up come from the last few days. But, to come out to his kitchen and have Bucky here, knowing what Steve’s been doing, praising Steve and willing to indulge the fantasy of how good he’s been for taking his enema so well, he’s beside himself with lust.

“Daddy, please,” he begs. He turns his mouth up, wanting a kiss and Bucky gives it to him, kissing him for a long moment. Bucky’s hand slides down his back, and Steve gasps, moving to his tip toes so he gets the touch sooner. “Shit, I might come,” he confesses, shaking as Bucky’s hand cups him between his cheeks. If Bucky’s fingers brush against his hole, that’s it.

“Are you all clean now, baby?” Bucky asks, darkly.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Should I check?”

“Fuck. Daddy, you’re making me too hard. I’ll come. I’m sorry.”

“When’s the last time you came?”

“With you.”

“Poor baby. I hate to think of you so pent up,” he says, and Steve is pretty sure that’s a lie.

“Fuck, please let me,” he begs, scared to move, balls throbbing.

“Hands on the counter. You come into the towel. If there’s a mess you’ll be licking it up,” he says, and Steve’s balls throb warningly. God. He can’t come from the fucking idea of it. From words. Again. Without a hand on him. It’s embarrassing. He closes his eyes tight, not wanting to even see Bucky in case it sets him off.

He breathes, counts, needs to think of something not arousing but Bucky is right there and he’s touching the towel, lifting it to cup Steve’s cock and balls, so he can flood the material. A touch. Five strokes of his cock. If he can last that long it will be a massive success.

Steve grunts at the effort of holding himself together. “Go ahead, let it out. Come on, good boy. What are you fighting it for?”

Steve trembles, every scrap of energy he has focused on not disgracing himself again. He wants fingers on his hole at least. He wants fingers wrapped around his dick, jerking him off in steady strokes, wants to enjoy it.

“You’re my good boy with a hair trigger. You come for daddy without a hand on you. You fucking give that to me, because I want it,” Bucky says, hard and almost angry, demanding, and Steve comes, hips pressing into the towel as he unloads with a desperate cry, obeying.

“Good boy,” Bucky says, moving his hand, stroking him through it lightly as Steve soaks the towel and grinds into the touch. Bucky kisses him, free hand in Steve’s hair, forcing his mouth to his. “That’s my good slut. It’s good for you to come when daddy tells you.”

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” he whimpers, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s hand squeezes him gently, his balls and his still hard cock.

Bucky undoes the towel, lifts it away, wipes up some come that’s on Steve’s shaft. “Go tidy up and come back. Quickly. You need to eat.”

Steve’s legs are shaky as he walks back to the bedroom, naked and still so hard his cock isn’t even bobbing, it’s just flush against his stomach, primed and ready. The soiled towel is in his hand. He puts it in the hamper and cleans off his cock in the sink, puts on underwear, determined to buy something new as soon as he can. 

He goes back to the kitchen, sits down where Bucky has dragged Steve’s chair closer to his own. “Are you going to feed me?” he asks, calm for the first time in days.

“I am,” he says, and Steve stays there as best he can, head on Bucky’s shoulder while Bucky awkwardly feeds him. He can’t stop touching Bucky. His thigh and his stomach, reaching for his metal hand, holding it in his.

“Have you ever fisted someone?” he asks. He’s close enough to feel Bucky’s muscles tense.

“No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not a particularly common fantasy.”

“But, you’re into kink and you like to hurt people. You’re usually with people who like to be hurt, right? Aren’t those the people that might want it?”

“Yes,” he says, slowly.

“Hasn’t it… has no one wanted you to?”

“There are a few things that I’ve not really wanted to do and fisting is one of them. I had a partner or two that wanted it, but….” He sighs, kisses Steve on the top of his head. “I’ve seen it done a few times and it’s very intense. It takes a lot of time and a lot of patience and it’s a very intimate connection. I always kind of felt like it wouldn’t be right to do that with someone when I wasn’t serious about them. Typically, when you play with someone or have a kinky relationship with them… well, maybe any relationship, I guess, someone’s needs are always the priority. Everything warps around one person more than the other.”

“And you don’t let yourself get warped around other people?”

Bucky gives Steve another bite of food, takes one himself. He hasn’t moved away from Steve, he isn’t tensed up, but he hasn’t given an answer, either. He cuts up more of the chicken and feeds Steve another bite. “I’m trying to figure out how much my answer matters,” Bucky finally says.

Steve lifts his head, wanting to see his face. It’s more of a thoughtful frown than anything else. “It matters to me.” 

Bucky’s brows raise and then lower in disagreement. “I don’t know that it does, because you’re not like other people I’ve been with. I’ve never had a relationship like this before.”

“Is that why you won’t fuck me? Because I want it so much and it’s not fair… since it’ll be—” Over soon. That’s the end of the sentence. Steve can barely think it.

Bucky puts down the knife and fork. That seems like a bad sign. He turns towards Steve, kisses him on the mouth. “I was worried about fucking you because it’s a big deal to you. And, I didn’t know if we were going to keep seeing each other. I don’t know if you know this, but it’s not appropriate for me to go out with you. You were my patient. That’s… I could lose my license and my practice and everything.”

As soon as Bucky says it, it’s obvious. Of course, it’s a bad idea. How could Steve have been so stupid? And, not only that, but Steve is done. He has thrown himself into this relationship as much as possible. No parachute or hesitation, just_ yes._ He’d thought that as long as he could be good enough, he could keep Bucky. Maybe even that’s too generous. He isn’t sure there was a choice or a point of intellectual decision making. He met him and… he’d thought they’d warped around each other.

When Steve had started dating Sharon he’d thought about it, agonized, and finally just decided it was worth it. She was nice, she wanted him, they worked together, were at a similar stage in life. She knew about his job. On paper, it made sense. If there was a checklist for what he and Bucky are doing, it got incinerated along the way.

To choose Steve over his career is insane. “I guess I need to be glad you’ve not fucked me then. I would… yeah, I may not want it to be, but that is a big deal for me.” If you’re not going to stay, he thinks. He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this ending, but if Bucky had fucked him….

“Steve, you know Sharon is going to Berlin?”

That’s not what he was expecting him to say. “Yeah.” He’s so busy thinking of Bucky leaving him, of him ruining Bucky’s life and career that it doesn’t even occur to him to ask how Bucky knows that. “The two of you are the people who can get me into trouble. Even if Sharon is out of the picture and even if you don’t tell anyone—”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve says, blinking back tears already. “Ever.”

Bucky kisses him, “I know, baby. I know you wouldn’t want to hurt me like that. It isn’t in you. But, even the best case scenario, when we meet people and are together, we need to lie about how we met. Forever. You need to understand that anyone you tell, jeopardizes my career. It’s a secret we would always have. And… and if people knew, they would pity you and hate me. It’s me taking advantage of you when you’re vulnerable.”

“You’re not a bad person,” Steve says. And, he can already see how this could fester between them, become something dark and horrible, the underlying corrosion to their relationship. If people knew.

“The thing is, I know. I know I’m not a bad person. I’ve never even contemplated doing something like this before, and I’ve been a therapist for years. I’ve never cheated on someone or broken the law. I’ve done kink with consenting adults who wanted the same things I did, and I’m not particularly ashamed of any of those things, either. Having you is worth the risk professionally and I can’t imagine looking back on how we got together and regretting it. But, that’s me. You need to have all the information and make your own decisions, and if you want someone to talk to about it with, I have a friend who is a therapist and who will keep our secret. And, I’m sorry that you’d be limited in who you could talk to about this, but that’s how it would need to be. Fuck, you’re exhausted and didn’t really need to deal with this right now. I’d intended to say we could work up to fisting if that was something you wanted, because I’m crazy about you and can’t imagine saying no to you about anything, but that’s not what happened. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been worried about it,” Steve guesses.

Bucky runs his hand through his hair, not once but twice, a nervous gesture Steve hasn’t seen before. Steve puts his arms around him. Bucky huffs a miserable laugh. “Yes, I have been worried about it. I want this to work. I am good at compartmentalizing and making the right decisions for other people so I don’t hurt them. But, I don’t see very clearly when I’m with you and I… yeah, if you want me to fist you with my metal hand then I will. We’d have to do it with my real hand first, but—”

“So, I’m already getting fisted twice?” Steve jokes.

Bucky laughs weakly. “It was your suggestion. I’m just trying to be accommodating.”

“That’s nice of you,” Steve says, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum. “And anal sex?” he asks, holding his breath as he waits for the answer.

“That’s up to you. If you still want to, I do, too. I do think it should be a little special but I’m not sure what that means yet, and I also felt like we needed to have this conversation. The… ramifications of us being together.”

Steve presses Bucky’s hard hand to his lips, “It doesn’t sound worth it, for you,” Steve says, and it doesn’t sound like he’s about to cry and lose his fucking mind, so good for him.

“Stevie, look at me. Am I your daddy? Not as a joke, but how I think we mean it. How I hear you say it and how I think you mean it is… real. Unguarded. You are my boy to take care of and to guide. Do you believe that?”

“What do you get out of it?” he asks, voice rough.

Bucky kisses a tear from Steve’s cheek. “You. I get every tear, every smile, your misery and the chance to make you happy. I get to help you, and you trust me to give you what you need, even if you don’t want it.”

That’s the important part then. The real question between them. Bucky decides for them. “It isn’t equality, Steve. We’re not doing casual or time-outs.”

Steve presses close. “Good,” he says, almost a sob. “It’s insane, but yes.”

Bucky turns his head, kissing Steve in a way he knows is a promise.

Steve nods in understanding.

Bucky’s voice is hard and low, serious. This is an order. “Then you believe me that you’re worth it, that I know what I want, and that I’ve decided we are worth the risk and you let it go.”

Steve clears his throat before he can speak. “Yes, daddy.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter. Sometimes it happens, I guess. Sorry gang!

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he’s alone. He checks the clock, surprised it’s 7. That’s late for him. Really late. He stretches and grabs Bucky’s pillow, trying to catch some hint of the fact that he was there. That he’d stayed the night. Maybe.

There’s a note on the bed and Steve picks it up. Bucky’s handwriting is readable but not particularly precise, has that messy casualness that the schools now allow.

“Had to go home and change before work. Call me if you need me. 4pm appt got canceled if you want to come by or go get dinner.” Then there are two xx’s. Guess he thought Steve could figure out who it was since he didn’t sign it.

He’s disappointed that he slept through Bucky leaving, but he feels… good. Well, he feels great. And,he’s hard. He moves the bedding back, except for the sheet, gets a weird rush of excitement as he smoothes the material over himself, over his cock, that he can see outlined through the fabric. He touches between his thighs and frames his cock and balls with his hands but doesn’t touch.

He just wants to look. Wants to enjoy the fact that he’s hard and in his bed and _wanting. _He doesn’t have to save up his arousal or get aroused for Sharon. Doesn’t have to come quickly because it’s now or never or dole out pleasure to himself in little bits. He’s hard and he wants to come, but he wants to save it for Bucky more. Give it to him.

He gets out of bed and takes a shower, slightly off his enema schedule since he did one last night. Maybe tomorrow. Which will be Saturday. Maybe Bucky will stay the night and in the morning he’ll do his enema and his daddy will be there again.

“Daddy,” he says, because there’s no one around to hear it or care. 

He should go on his post-mission run. He has a few things he does to get through the day after he’s had a mission, crutch type things that help him process and deal with the emotional fallout and the weight of his own failures and that all seems less necessary now.

Everyone else will likely be together.

Sigh. He can do this.

***

Steve walks into the gym and everyone goes silent. Well, there’s one last oomph as Nat throws Brock onto his back and he hits the mat. Everyone looks at him. “What?” Steve asks, wanting to look down and make sure he’s dressed.

“It’s the day after a mission,” Tony says.

“So?”

“You never show up the day after. I thought you ran fifty miles to try and escape your demons. We usually see you the day after, _after _mission.”

“It’s 30 miles. And, usually, I need to recover from picking up your slack. And the bad jokes,” he says, putting down his bag. Because he has very good hearing, he picks up Clint whispering ‘alien’ to Natasha.

“Do you… should we talk about the mission?” Brock asks, appearing just as confused as everyone else. Steve has been here once post-mission and he left convinced that everything anyone said was a veiled attack on him and how he’d fucked everything up.

He’d decided he needed time to himself post-mission, couldn’t do the day after and he thinks Sharon must have talked to someone or maybe all of them because it never came up again, the fact that their ‘leader’ was absent the day after.

“What do you usually do the day after?”

“We all show up really late, fuck about in here for an hour and then Maria brings us cookies and we go home,” Clint says.

He looks to Nat. Is that true? She shrugs and nods, blows a lock of hair out of her eyes. She’s wearing sweats and a Blondie t-shirt. It’s a little like he’s entered an alternate universe.

“What kind of cookies?” Steve asks, because what the hell else is he supposed to ask?

“Chocolate chip, unless she’s pissed off and then it’s oatmeal raisin,” Clint says.

“Plus there was the one time you didn’t get her a souvenir and she made ginger snap. That was a fuck you biscuit,” Brock says, retying his shoe.

“Well… how much longer until cookies?” Steve asks, not quite sure what to do with himself.

“Twenty minutes,” Tony says.

Steve looks at them. They all look at _him_. “I don’t know. Should I go?”

“No, of course not,” they all say, wandering over to him. He gets a few pats on the back and a couple of good jobs and even a good work yesterday. Steve goes to the treadmill. He starts to run, mainly out of nervousness and this sense that he maybe shouldn’t be here.

Nat makes her way over to him after a few minutes. “Remember that thing where you threw me up to Clint and he was supposed to catch me and he didn’t?”

“I do. My shoulder still hurts.”

“We could practice that.”

He turns off the machine. “Let’s do it.”

When Maria arrives fifteen minutes later, with chocolate chip cookies, they’re still laughing at a stupid story Clint is telling from his circus days. The punchline is basically that honey and feathers are never a good combination, and one shouldn’t argue with a bearded lady, but Steve can’t help but wonder if he’s making it up.

“Are these the best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever had or what?” Clint demands.

“Without a doubt,” Steve says. Which is true.

“What kind of cookies did you have back in the day?” Brock asks, and usually it’s the kind of question he finds annoying, mainly because it comes from Brock and Steve is convinced that every time Brock asks him something, it’s because he’s trying to point out how different Steve is, how much he doesn’t fit in.

“Have you had an Anzac cookie? It’s got coconut, oatmeal and golden syrup—”

“What’s golden syrup?” Brock asks.

“Heathen,” Natasha murmurs. “Steve you should make us some.”

He laughs. “Sure, if you want food poisoning.”

“I don’t see Cap as much of a baker,” Tony says.

There are crumbs all around him. “You look like the damned Cookie Monster, what is going on over there?” Steve asks.

Tony wipes at his beard, Maria says she’s going to report him to Fury if they get ants, and Clint tells him to get the vacuum function sorted out on his suit.

No one asks Steve how he knows who the Cookie Monster is. It’s amazing. Natasha is suddenly next to him. “I think I need to talk to you, if you have a minute. Actually, do you want to get lunch? I can be out in twenty minutes.”

“Oh. Sure. I have errands in the afternoon, but yeah, if it’s fast.”

Steve runs for another ten minutes, showers and dresses quickly in his spare clothes, putting on Bucky’s scarf even though it’s too warm for it and waits for Natasha.

She comes out wearing jeans and a leather jacket, a beanie that somehow looks stylish, and covers up her red hair. She looks anywhere from 18-30.

“How old do I look?” he asks, curious. Which isn’t quite the right question. “Actually, how fashionable do I look?”

“I thought Sharon did an okay job updating you,” she says, side eyeing him. “Although, you’ve definitely got a ‘one of these things is not like the other’ outfit going on,” she says, pointing to his scarf.

“_Exactly,_” he says, because he knows it’s true, but isn’t quite sure why. He’s got jeans on, a t-shirt. His jacket was a good deal at Macy’s and Sharon had said it looked pretty nice. But, he doesn’t dress like Bucky.

“How old do you want to look?” she asks, as they step outside.

“I don’t know, it’s not age, it’s more like….”

“Fuckability?”

“Yes! Is that a thing?” he asks, blushing.

“I will help you in your quest, and I can make you look _hot_ Steve. Like, you’ll never get out of the house, you look so good.”

“Why am I getting the sense that this offer is too good to be true?”

“Let me start by saying I was doing my job, and I will also mention, upfront, that you don’t have to worry about Sharon reporting Bucky because Fury and I are on it, and even if she does find out you two are dating, we’ll keep her quiet. Oh. And no one else knows except for me… and Fury.”

“Wait. What?”

“I met Bucky.”

“Wait. _What?_”

“He’s super hot. Good looking friend, too.”

“Don’t make me say it again. Just start from the beginning.” He’s still weirdly calm about it. There might be anger in a minute, but he’s trying hard to stay focused on the fact that she’s saying Sharon won’t get Bucky in trouble, which is, frankly, the best news he could have.

“Apparently, you were unlike your normal grumbly, weight of the world self, on this last mission, and I was told to make sure you weren’t brainwashed or something.”

“An alien,” he says.

“Or an alien,” she agrees. “I pulled up the footage from your place, saw Bucky leave, CCTV’d him home, figured out who he was, which led back to your appointment with Sharon and voila.”

“The good news is I understood all of that explanation.”

“I’m so glad. Very _good_,” she says, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face and Steve has no idea what the hell to make of that, but he’s blushing.

Never ask a question if you don’t want the answer.

“Fury wants you happy and so do I. I made contact with Bucky the day after you left for your mission. I like him. And his friend,” she says, again.

“You met Bucky? What _friend_?” Why didn’t Bucky mention it? He thinks of the state he was in last night, the care Bucky took to help him and be good to him. He had mentioned Sharon, but Steve hadn’t thought much of it.

“He was having dinner with a friend and wouldn’t shut up about his amazing new boyfriend.”

“Amazing?”

She nods. “He’s crazy about you.”

Well, it’s pretty hard to be pissed off after _that _confirmation. And he’s had no one to talk about Bucky with. He is desperate to talk to someone about it. About how happy he is and how obsessed he is. “Isn’t he gorgeous? Isn’t he just….” He doesn’t even know what to say. He sighs.

She’s smirking at him.

“Shut up. But, yeah, I want to look fuckable and like someone who dates a guy who owns this scarf.”

“Are you pissed off?” she asks, after a moment.

“Probably. It depends upon how much you help me shop.” He could be mad. He has reason to be mad. But, Bucky wants him to let this go and Bucky’s job security is a big fucking deal. If this makes that happen… okay. It never would have occurred to him to get SHIELD’s help.

“I knew you were reasonable.”

He gives her a look.

“Well, I thought you might be, once in a while.”

“I’m meeting Bucky at 4 at his work. So, I have three hours to do this.”

“Let’s go,” she says, “and we’ll need to assume money isn’t an option.”

He wants to protest. He doesn’t protest.

He follows along as she leads him towards Bloomingdale’s. “Hey, Nat? Don’t ever go behind my back about Bucky again. I don’t care what it is. He’s off limits completely.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she says. She’s got the smirk again. He likes it even less than he did before. What _exactly _does she know? “Wow. You’ve got it bad.”

“You have no idea.”

She doesn’t say a word.


	13. Chapter 13

Shopping is hard work. He gets to Bucky’s office a few minutes before four and gets himself something to drink while he waits. He drinks water and then makes the green tea thing Bucky had first mentioned when they met.

Days ago. Steve has no idea if it feels like a lot longer than that or less.

The matcha is not bad. Like most teas, it tastes vaguely like dried weeds, but it’s better than some. He hasn’t been in this office since he was with Sharon. He sits down on the waiting room couch, half expecting her to walk in the door.

Bucky’s office door opens, a couple comes out. They’re holding hands and smiling. Maybe they’re in the wrong place. Steve waits until they leave. Bucky stands in his office doorway. Blue cashmere sweater, starched collar. His trousers are clearly dry-cleaned.

“Is it my turn, doctor?” he asks, getting up off the couch when the door closes behind them.

Bucky gives him a thorough once over. Steve is hard. Alas, he’s been half-hard since he got to the fucking building, but seeing Bucky has sealed the deal. “Step into my office,” Bucky says, coolly.

Steve brushes by him, lets his hand graze his groin.

“That is definitely not allowed. Let me get my stuff and we can go,” Bucky says, almost stern.

“What? Really? I’m here. Can’t I at least blow you while you sit on the couch?” Or maybe crawl? He very intensely remembers being desperate to just crawl over to him and blow him during one of his sessions.

Bucky licks his lips, looks quickly at Steve and away. “Ha. Uh, no. This isn’t just my office. I think someone is next door. Not here. I want to, but it’s a bad idea,” he says. He doesn’t sound all that happy about it. Steve doesn’t feel all that happy about it. Fine. They’ll talk. 

“How come you didn’t tell me you saw Nat?”

Bucky’s moving some papers on his desk. He looks up. “You got home late last night and it seemed the least relevant of everything. I was going to tell you tonight.”

“Who was your _friend_?” he asks. He doesn’t think he sounds jealous at all.

“His name is Sam. He’s also a vet. He works at the VA and he’s a big fan of Captain America. When you meet him, he will abandon me completely. Be careful what you let him borrow.”

“How did you meet him?” he asks. He’d sort of thought Bucky’s friend was a woman. Is it better or worse that it’s a man?

Bucky frowns, opens his mouth and closes it again. “He’s into kink, too.”

Oh, it’s much worse. “Have you ever… been with him?”

Bucky comes back around his desk, leans against it, crossing his legs and his arms. He’s half therapist, half defensive. Steve raises a brow at how closed off he looks.

Bucky drops his arms in acknowledgement. “I’ve never dated him, never fucked him or blown him or anything like that.”

“So, why don’t you just say no?”

“Because kink is weird and you do things with friends when you’re kinky that you wouldn’t normally do. I’ve tied him up before and I’ve done a scene with him where he came. I’m sure he’s been in the same room when I was with someone. He’s a switch, but our interests never lined up all that well.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, feeling very out of his depth. Which is a shame, because he just spent a month’s worth of rent on clothing and had been feeling fairly confident before he walked in the door.

“Come here,” Bucky orders.

The worst part is how much he wants to. “Give me a minute,” Steve says, and sits on the couch, feeling a little sick just at the idea of not having all of Bucky to himself. Not knowing everything. Things between them that Steve doesn’t understand or maybe won’t be on board with.

Bucky comes to him and Steve just sits there, watching him, desperate to be touched by him and told it’s all going to be okay.

“Sweetheart, he’s a friend. I’ve not played with him in at least three years, but, I think it might even be four. He’s usually on the hunt for a female dominant if he wants to sub. If we played together, which was really rare, it was out of last resort, or to practice a skill, and I have no intention or interest in playing with anyone else because we’re together.”

“What kind of skill?”

He winces. “Single tail whip for sure, flogger, I think suspension.”

Steve can feel the tears rising. “I don’t want to be whipped.”

Bucky’s smile is gentle. “I don’t want to whip you, so I think we’re okay.”

Bucky reaches for him and Steve flinches away, holds up a hand. This is important. “I mean it. I don’t… I will _never_ want that. How many other things are there that I don’t want, that you like and have developed a _skill _for? And… then what? Are you going to do them to me anyway? Will you just be resentful or end it because you like those things and I don’t?”

“Of course I wouldn’t do them to you. And I wouldn’t leave you or be resentful, either. Why don’t we go through a checklist? It’s the easiest way to know—”

“But, I _don’t_ _know_, because I’ve never done _anything_,” he says, hating how calm Bucky is being and how he’s making it seem like this isn’t a big deal. Bucky did these things for years. Apparently he’s got ‘skills.’ How does Steve compete with that or factor into it? How does he even check things off?

“Then you put a question mark, and say if it sounds like something you want to try or something you don’t have any interest in.”

“Why is whipping even a skill? Why would you learn how to do it and then just _stop?_ A month from now, three months from now you’ll want that. I don’t,” he says, because the very idea of it is horrible. “I won’t _ever _want that,” he says.

Would he be chained up, not even able to touch Bucky or see him? Just this burning pain ripping him open while Bucky treats him like nothing? Distant and far away. Just… skin to hurt? He could be anyone. He doesn’t ever want to do that. So… would he need to let Bucky do that with someone else to keep him? He can imagine watching and how upsetting that would be. Maybe Bucky would get hard and —

Bucky shakes him. “I’m talking to you. Listen. I don’t want to hurt you if you don’t want it. And, I would never want to whip you, not just because you hate the idea of it,” he says, wiping a tear off of Steve’s face. And shit, when did that happen? “But, because that’s not how we are with each other. And, that was a long time ago, too. I don’t even _have_ a whip anymore. Actually, I think I gave it to Sam. Don’t get worked up over that, baby. Please?” Bucky is touching him, hands in Steve’s hair and on his arms, trying to calm him.

“What do you have? What else do you think I’m not going to like?” he demands, heart beating fast and palms beginning to sweat. He undoes the scarf because he’s oppressed and his boyfriend, _if_ he’s Steve’s boyfriend, is looking at him like he’s a naive idiot. Or a bomb.

“Do you want to come?” Bucky asks, after a moment.

“What? _No._ Why?”

“You’re stressed out and I want to kiss you, but you come so well for me, I felt like I should ask. You’d probably want to take your jeans down before I started, just in case.” Steve hates what that says about him. How pathetic and inexperienced he is that Bucky is just wanting to kiss him but he’s worried Steve will come.

“No. That’s not, daddy, no,” he says, almost breathless, reaching for him. Bucky is watching him closely. Steve looks down, away, the eye contact too much. He shifts on the couch, just to be a little closer, fingers clutching the hem of Bucky’s sweater. Steve’s getting hard. Really hard. He stares to the side, trying to breathe evenly.

“I’ll lock the door. You’ll need to be quiet.” Bucky gets up and goes to the door, locks it, comes back towards Steve. “Get over my desk, we’ll put the trash can under you.”

It’s a horrible suggestion. Almost clinical and so distant. Steve needs to protest now. “Up, baby,” Bucky says. Steve is helpless against him. He just is. Bucky offers his hand and Steve takes it, gets to his feet.

“Daddy, I don’t need that,” he says, voice shaking. Bucky looks at his crotch, sees how hard Steve is inhis pants. His face doesn’t change expression.

“Over the desk, sweetheart.”

“But, I want to finish our conversation. This isn’t fair.”

“We will talk about it. But, you need to calm down first. Did you come this morning?”

He’s embarrassed. Ashamed. He’s in front of Bucky’s desk now. Bucky reaches for Steve’s pants.

“Daddy, I don’t want it like this,” he says, tears filling his eyes. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Bucky watches him do it, reaches out a hand and cups Steve’s pec, brushes a finger over his nipple. 

“Then say red and we won’t do it.”

Steve doesn’t say red. He’s so hard now and his daddy is so intent and purposeful. How could he say no? It scares him how much he doesn’t want to stop Bucky but also doesn’t want this. Bucky puts a finger under Steve’s chin, waits until Steve looks him in the eyes. “Pretty baby. Let daddy get you settled.”

Steve’s hard and leaking. His cock is so stuffed full that he can feel it throbbing in time to his heart. He should’ve come this morning and he wouldn’t be in this predicament. There might already be a wet spot at the front of his jeans.

“Get yourself out for daddy, hands on the desk.”

“Don’t make me. You said you didn’t want to do this here. Daddy, please.”

“Babydoll, I didn’t. I do now. You need it and I want to take care of you,” he says, and he picks up his trash can. It’s just a small black trashcan, rectangle shaped with a few pieces of paper in the bottom.

Steve hesitates. He can already imagine how humiliating it’s going to be. How helpless he’ll feel. How pathetic and weak. Coming in a trashcan. Because Bucky wants him to. To settle him down so they can talk like grownups.

“I’m going to make you come, Steve. Do you want to ruin your pants and have to walk around in it or not?”

Steve undoes his jeans, fingers hesitating before hauling his clothes down. He takes a moment to wipe his cheeks of tears and then slowly pushes his pants down to his thighs.

Bucky stands behind him, puts his foot on where Steve’s jeans are bunched mid-thigh and shoves them further down so they’re around his ankles. “Beautiful. You’re going to feel so much better when we get you coming, won’t you? You’ll be in a better mood to talk. Hold it between your knees, sweetheart,” he orders, urging him to shift his legs open as best he can.

It’s so humiliating. He sobs loudly and Bucky shushes him gently, rubs a hand in the middle of his back. “I can’t. I _can’t_. Daddy, it’s too much.”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate. He holds the trashcan between Steve’s legs, smacks Steve on the ass with the flat of his metal hand and Steve yelps, lets his legs open so Bucky can put the trash can where he wants. The plastic is cool and hard, he’ll get bruises on the inside of his knees.

“Don’t let it fall.”

This is obscene. Tears fill his eyes. It’s humiliating. He doesn’t need this, shouldn’t be treated this way. “No. I’m not some needy slut. I don’t… not this way. Just… _daddy_.”

Bucky makes a sound that might be a laugh. “A needy slut? Sweetheart, I didn’t say that. I’m just trying to fix up my good boy and give you what you need. Don’t I take care of you?”

He can’t speak. He has nothing to say and he isn’t sure if it’d be worse to stop or finish this. It’s just so embarrassing. 

“Look, you’re about to drip. We got there just in time, didn’t we?” Bucky says, pointing to Steve’s cock.

Steve glances down, even though he can feel how wet he is, feel the pre-come sliding out of him, down his shaft and to his balls, about to drip off.

“I can’t believe how wet you get, baby. I love it. You’re lucky I’m not making you come in your pants. How ashamed you’d be, as we walked out of here, underwear all soaked because you came for me. And, you’d be so sweet if we did that. Clingy and all teary-eyed like I love. You make your daddy so hard, Stevie.”

Steve is panting, unsure what to do, scared to move. He needs to come so badly. Bucky sounds pleased with him. He tries to turn into Bucky, bury his face against him, but his pants are down and there’s the fucking trashcan which makes it awkward to move.

“Deep breath. Relax. Bend over now. Put your cheek on my desk and make sure you’ve got that cock angled right. You can use two fingers to make sure it stays where it should. It all has to go in the trash. Don’t jerk yourself off or you’ll be punished.”

Bucky presses on his neck and Steve goes over, shuffling a little, almost losing the trashcan. He’s a little dizzy, his balls aching. As soon as his face is against the desk he’s fumbling to get his cock aimed to the trash can.

“Shit, I can’t see. I don’t know if it’s right. Help me, daddy.”

“Oh. Good point. Put your arm on the desk, forehead on your arm and look between your legs. I want you to watch yourself come. It’s always good to be reminded how easy you are for daddy, isn’t it?”

“Jesus. I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Steve says, voice all fucked up and wavery.

“You want to stop?” Bucky asks, touching Steve on his back, to let him know he can. “It’s okay to want something you don’t want. It’s okay to tell daddy no when you mean yes, so long as you know you can always say red.”

Steve doesn’t answer. He’s worried Bucky will call his bluff and tell him to get tucked away, and he very well might die if that happens. He angles his cock towards the trash, wincing at the discomfort. He’s so hard. He waits. Bucky is behind him. His hand settles on the desk next to Steve, the back of his pants brush Steve’s thigh. His metal fingers slide up and down the back of Steve’s leg, stopping just before the swell of his ass. Steve breaks out into goosebumps.

“Is this enough, sweetheart? Can you come from this?” he asks, next to Steve’s ear.

He certainly doesn’t want to. He closes his eyes, tries to come up with something really unsexy.

“My beautiful boy. You’re so pretty. I missed seeing you today. I should have woken you up before I left, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should have,” he says. He’s done a pretty good job of not being too sad that Bucky didn’t wake him up.

“I should have had you blow me. I’m annoyed I didn’t wake you up and drag you by the hair down to my cock, get you under the covers. I woke up hard sleeping next to you all night. And you were so beautiful and sweet in your sleep.”

“I would have taken care of you,” he says, disappointed he didn’t get to.

Bucky nuzzles his neck. “I know, baby. Because you’re my good boy. You want to make your daddy feel good, don’t you?”

Bucky’s fingers press gently against his, between his legs, the slightest up and down touch.

“Daddy,” he begs, fingers twitching on his shaft in response. It isn’t a stroke. It’s only two fingers, but he almost comes from it, hisses through his teeth as he struggles not to, can’t help but imagine how good it would have been if his daddy had used him like he should have in the morning.

“I’ll have your ass soon. We might need to keep you open so I can slide into you first thing. Shove your face into the bedding, you can keep sleeping and I’ll fill you up with my come and start my day.”

Another twitch of his fingers. “Daddy. _Daddy,_” he gasps, and he comes, spurts heavily into the trash, frantically trying to angle his cock and not jerk himself off, just let it pulse out of him. His knees bend as the pleasure rolls through him. He almost drops the trash can but Bucky grabs it, laughing, pleased. Pleased.

“Good boy. Very good boy. You’ve got another load in you I think. And you’re in luck, you don’t have to part your cheeks this time. Daddy will do it. Keep an eye on that trashcan. Don’t you jerk off.” Bucky moves back, stands behind Steve. “Fucking hell. So pretty, Steve. You and your perfect little hole.”

He brushes a damp finger against Steve’s hole and Steve makes a sound. His hole clenches, wanting Bucky inside him. Bucky adjusts his touch, pressing his knuckle against Steve’s hole. It’s… he’s never felt that before. It’s a lot. It’s overwhelming. He hauls in a breath, hands clenched tight as he tries to work through the feelings. He groans in discomfort. The overstimulation in his balls as he’s instantly full up again and on the edge, and then there’s the knuckle against his hole and he’s fluttery around it, just wants it in him.

“Daddy. Stop,” he breathes, scared to move back when the edge is this agonizing and close.

“No. Take it,” he says, flatly, and he presses harder, the barest hint of the muscle giving to let his daddy in. “Perfect hole. So pretty. Just a little kiss. Is that okay?” Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer. The knuckle eases back, his tongue is there. Bucky moans as he presses his tongue against Steve’s hole.

“Oh… God, I just— coming. Fuck, I… daddy? I don’t want to, please, please—”

“Yes, come,” he says, sounding impressed. Steve comes, almost despite himself, more ropes of come into the trash as Bucky grinds his knuckle into Steve’s practically dry hole, jiggling his finger and Steve presses back, tries to ride up into the touch. He just needs a cock inside him so much. So fucking much.

He starts to straighten. Bucky puts a hand in the middle of his back. “Not yet. Daddy has to check.”

Steve doesn’t know what that might mean, and then his warm fingers are on Steve’s balls, touching him gently and then tapping on him. He taps for a little while, all over. Steve doesn’t go soft. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s not sure it feels good, either. Steve is still achingly hard. If Bucky would stop touching him he’d go soft.

“Now let’s check your cock, good boy,” he murmurs, and his hand is on Steve’s shaft, wrapped around it. He gathers up excess come from the slit and what had slipped down his shaft before, starts jerking him off. “What do you think? One more?”

All he can do is pant and wait for it. He moans, almost instantly feels it welling inside him. He shivers and trembles, can’t make it stop, his legs are just so exhausted and his daddy is so intent. “You’re very hard, Steve. You still feel really full. You’ll be happier once it’s out, baby. Ready to have a conversation and listen to daddy,” he says, obnoxiously enough that Steve tries to move away from him, makes a sound in his throat. 

“I don’t think so, princess,” Bucky’s hand goes faster, harder and Steve endures it for a moment, still wanting to show Bucky he’s annoyed, then slumps down, tries to fuck into the fist instead. He’s almost positive it hurts more than it feels good.

“There you go,” Bucky croons, happily. “Be a good slut and let’s get you there. There you go, you’re so close. What a good boy you are. All ready to listen to daddy and not be in such a bad mood.”

“Fuck you,” he says, just about to come, unable to make Bucky stop, but wanting him to know that the sass is noticed and not appreciated.

“That’s not very nice,” Bucky says, and lets him go, takes all that glorious pleasure away and Steve cries out, hips thrusting into nothing. It’s too late, he comes and Bucky swears, shoves the trashcan under him, aims him into it. He’s far too sensitive and he bites his arm to shut himself up. He finishes and Bucky puts the trash can down, wipes his fingers over the head of Steve’s cock and licks it off. He urges Steve upright and Steve misses the support of the desk. Bucky is close behind him. He’s hard in his pants, erection pressing into Steve’s butt cheek.

“I wasn’t going to come here,” he growls, lips on Steve’s neck. “I didn’t fucking want to, because this is where I work. But, you are such a naughty little slut, you make me so fucking hard I have no choice, now do I?” he says, breathing heavily next to Steve’s ear as he gets his pants down. “Get back down there so I can come,” he growls, hand urging Steve back to the desk. He sighs in contentment as his cheek meets the cool wood, closes his eyes.

“Oh, daddy,” he says, when Bucky presses his hard cock between Steve’s cheeks and thrusts between them.

“Fuck, you just stay there,” he says, shoving Steve’s shirt up roughly. He puts his hands on Steve’s hips, keeps him there, short thrusts between Steve’s cheeks and Steve could cry with how good it is, how close to what he wants more than anything.

Bucky growls into his back, hauls him back up with his metal arm, wrapping it around Steve’s neck like a threat. Bucky licks the back of his neck, the touch becoming a kiss and then a bite, as if he’s actually going to devour him.

“I’ll fall,” Steve whispers, just gone with how good it is, how intense Bucky is and how wanted he feels.

“Fucking fall then, god damnit I want you so much,” he says, and works himself hard and fast between Steve’s cheeks, comes, a loud groan in Steve’s ear, hot and copious all up Steve’s back. Bucky takes a few long moments to get himself together, forehead pressed to Steve’s shoulder.

Steve finds himself back on the desk, genuinely unsure how he got there, how long he’s been there. It’s irrelevant. He’s perfect. Everything is right and hazy. Safe. It’s like a little space around him and he can just be there, he realizes, almost dimly. He stays and waits, time paused.

At some point he realizes how tired he is, how boneless he feels and theeffort it’s taking to keep his legs from crumpling under him. He blinks, aware that Bucky is beside him, leaning against the desk, his hand resting gently on Steve’s back while he looks at his phone.

“Daddy?”

“You back with me, sweetheart?”

He’s drooled. Oh, that’s gross. Every other body fluid is apparently fine, but drool is where Steve draws the line. Bucky takes his hand away and Steve makes a sound at the loss. 

Daddy chuckles, kisses his cheek and disappears for a moment. Steve closes his eyes. Bucky comes back and he’s got tissues wiping the cold come off of Steve’s lower back.

Bucky doesn’t do a great job of it, missing some and leaving him damp as he pulls Steve’s shirt down, presses his hand against it so Steve feels filthy.

“It’s gonna stick to me,” he says.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Daddy needs to mark you up a little sometimes so you don’t forget who you belong to. I cleaned up most of it.” Steve has to fight down the emotion rising within him, how badly he just wants to say that he loves everything from Bucky and he’ll take all of it, whatever Bucky wants.

Steve finally pushes himself upright, sways a little and slumps roughly against the desk, needing another minute after all.

Bucky kisses him, bites him hard on his bottom lip. “Better?”

“I don’t know,” he says, genuinely clueless.

Bucky grins at him, kisses his mouth again, hands on his face, controlling him. “How many nevers do you need? I’ve never had a relationship with a patient. I’ve never fucked someone in my office. And… it’s never been _this_, and god knows it’s never been you. We’ll do a checklist and you’ll feel better. But, I would never ever whip my boy. Of course not. Do you understand?”

He puts his head down on Bucky’s chest. “Why not? I’m not arguing, I just don’t understand.”

Bucky sighs. “You’re too special. You’re too soft for it and you make me want to be soft. It’s just not right. It feels wrong to me, too. I meant it when I said I don’t have one anymore. I gave it away and I’ve not missed it. We have new skills to work on together. Trashcan skills.”

Steve laughs in surprise.

“You were so cute, I’m serious.” 

“You’re a jerk. Daddy.”

“It’s not a great answer, but I’ll allow it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A trashcan. What is there to say?


	14. Chapter 14

The best part of meeting Bucky at his office is they get to take the subway together again. Bucky offers to take one of Steve’s shopping bags. “This looks like a lot of shopping.”

“Some things are being hemmed and altered, but yeah, it was an intense day of shopping,” he says, blushing. It’s been a very intense day all around. He feels loose and relaxed, just wants to be pressed up against Bucky and then have lots of lazy kissing. It would also be nice if Bucky came on his face. 

“Do you like shopping?” Bucky asks. Steve was staring at his mouth.

“Not especially. Seems extravagant and unnecessary, but it’s part of a larger agenda.”

“Oh, yeah? What?” he asks, getting the bags settled between them for the trip.

“Fuckability.”

Bucky gives a little half laugh. “I’ll die. I can’t take anymore. It all has to go back.”

“If I wasn’t still a virgin, I might believe you,” he says, and wishes he could take it back. “Forget I said it,” he says, because the virginity thing and Bucky not fucking him isn’t actually something he can joke about anymore. Was he ever joking about it?

“It’s Friday night, you know.”

Steve gives him a glance. “I know.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

He shrugs and waits. He’s doing nothing. He’s hoping Bucky will tell him what he’s doing and keep him for the weekend. He’s hoping Bucky will fuck him and use him, just wear him out.

The train jolts forward and Steve grips the top rail more tightly. Bucky’s hand is next to his and he moves it a little closer, his finger on top of Steve’s, the smallest reminder that they’re not just together but he’s under Bucky, controlled by Bucky.

And yet, he’s free. He could move away from him, just get out at the next stop and disappear. Bucky could, too. There’s nothing really tying them together and they don’t actually know each other all that well.

But, Bucky knows Steve has no one and that he’s the bright, shining light in his life. That his presence is outsized in importance. He’s overly reliant upon Bucky. Which makes it kind of dickish for Bucky to joke about what Steve is doing over the weekend.

If he isn’t spending it with Bucky, then he’s spending it alone. How pathetic. Pathetic that he has no plans and pathetic that he can’t just assume he’s spending it with Bucky after what they’ve just done and how much he gives him.

Bucky is watching him, watching him like he’s an animal at the zoo doing something interesting and Steve _hates_ that. It’s like all of his internal panic and fear is being broadcast on his face and Bucky is taking it all in. While Steve knows nothing about Bucky in return.

Steve’s neediness consumes all of their time. That must be exhausting. He likely wants a break from Steve.

Bucky’s arm comes around his waist, pulling him closer. “I wouldn’t be a very good daddy if I left my good boy alone.”

“But, it’s not real. Not like _that_, where we have that kind of obligation to each other. I can’t expect to always be your priority. You have other things beside me. And, I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t, of course you should. But… it’s maybe a little difficult, you having so much control over me and how much I actually want that, that I think… I think you need to be careful what you say to me. It’s nice. I like hearing what you say and I love the dirty talk and all of that, but… I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” Steve finishes, lamely.

“You’re right. I’ll be careful with what I say. I don’t want to lead you on or make you think you can’t trust me because you don’t know what’s me being… in the moment or sincere. So, do you want to spend the weekend with me and be in a daddy/boy dynamic?” he asks, smiling in that gentle ‘you’re so adorable when you’re betraying how fucking needy you are’ way.

“Yes. But now I want to punch you, as well,” he says, because it’s that or fall into him weeping and pathetic again. There has to be a middle ground somewhere, right? He never felt like this with Sharon. A constant yo-yo of emotion and vulnerability.

Getting every defense ripped down and then trying to rebuild. It reminds him of being at the beach, and the kids who build sandcastles out of the way of the low tide and then when the water comes in it’s a frantic rush to protect what they built, shore it up before the next wave hits.

It always gets washed away. Bucky is that inexorable and calm, that overwhelming and Steve is both the frantic kid waiting for his creation to be destroyed and the sandcastle getting washed away. Steve experienced subspace. Like, legitimately knows that’s what that was. It was beautiful and awful.

“You’re so pretty,” Bucky murmurs, kissing him on the forehead. Steve knows he’s blushing. And fuck Bucky, because he’s getting hard, too. He isn’t his own person when he’s with Bucky and he doesn’t want to be. Letting all of his defenses get washed away, not trying to rebuild after every encounter… Steve is certain that can only hurt him. But, it’s really fucking hard.

“You always say that.”

“It doesn’t stop being true,” Bucky says, with a dopey smile.

Steve shakes his head. It’s not that he wants an argument, he just wants to feel like he can be his own person for a minute. He asserted himself and Bucky instantly caved and agreed to do better, and Steve was kind of looking forward to the heat and solidity of his own indignation. To a bit of emotional distance instead of this overwhelming, sucking softness and intimacy.

Bucky’s ability to lull him into thinking everything is good and Steve should just give in more and more is like it’s own super power.

A good fight has always reassured him of who he is. “For the record, what you did to me in your office, that is not the way to settle an argument.”

Bucky purses his lips, thinking or something.

Steve wants to kiss him. He wants Bucky to bite him.

“Was it an argument?” Bucky asks.

“Well, yeah, I guess we don’t need to overstate the conflict or anything, but… it’s a jerk thing to do. Taking advantage of my… situation.”

Bucky stifles a laugh. “It’s a mutual situation with a mutually beneficial conclusion.”

Steve rolls his eyes, manages to take a small step back when the carriage rocks, gets both hands on the railing instead of touching Bucky. Why do things that are good for you always feel like shit?

“Are you saying you didn’t feel better afterwards? Or you wish it hadn’t happened?”

“No. I just want to acknowledge that it’s manipulative. There will be times where it’s really unacceptable.”

“So, next time I think you seem anxious and need to be… settled, you don’t want me to?” Bucky’s hand slips into Steve’s coat, fingers pressing into his side.

Steve looks away from him, above his head, because it’s hard enough to think with the touching, but you add in the looking, and Steve doesn’t know what the hell is going on, let alone make a coherent argument about Bucky being manipulative.

“Do you still tie people up?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I lost interest. I know the ties and I’ll do them if people want me to, but it wasn’t really my thing, it was just something to learn and I’d see my friends and meet people.”

“Tying people up,” Steve says, clarifying. “Not a book club or rock climbing, but naked people, orgasms and tying people up, was just… a hobby you were mildly interested in?”

“Yup. Usually in a dungeon.”

Steve moves his hand from under Bucky’s when the doors open and someone shuffles by them. “I guess I just don’t understand what you do like. I feel like you’re so reactive to me that I don’t even know. And, I ask you questions and get these bland responses.”

Bucky looks at Steve like he’s an idiot. “Don’t be an idiot,” Bucky says.

“I’m not. Don’t call me an idiot.”

Bucky rubs his hand up and down Steve’s back. “You’re right. You’re not an idiot and it wasn’t a nice thing to say. I’m just so happy with you and figuring us out, and how responsive you are, that I’ve not gotten farther than that. And, I think there are probably things that I like with you that I didn’t like with other people or didn’t want to try. If I’m reactive to you, it’s just that I’m still working it out.”

“Give me an example.”

Bucky chews his lip for a minute. “Okay. Fine. _This_. The whole daddy situation and you being a good boy, I don’t do this and it isn’t something I’d have said I wanted to do before you showed up.”

“Oh.” That’s actually the worst fucking thing Bucky could have said.

“See. Now you think this is a fluke and I won’t want to do this for the long term—”

“Do you want to do this for the long term? How would you even know?”

“I want you to move in with me.”

Steve laughs. Which is not the appropriate reaction but it’s surprising. It’s flattering and it’s… the odds of Steve getting what he wants, this easily, isn’t possible. And, he just told Bucky not to say things that would lead him on. It’s annoying. Because, if it isn’t annoying and it’s real… well, then what?

“Well, I haven’t even seen your place yet, so I’m not sure I want to give up my new place.” There is a sane part of himself telling him to shut the hell up, grab his shit and go. Just jump.

“It’s better than your place. Bigger, too. And I own it.”

“Outright?” Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs.

“So that’s how you afford to spend so much money on your damned wardrobe.”

“Well, sort of. You have to get the right pieces and the rest is irrelevant.”

“Nat said the same thing. That sounds like one of those vague things people say that’s actually bullshit, but meant to make them sound grounded. Nat and I had this conversation over carrot soup today. I don’t know.”

Bucky is staring at him, waiting for some kind of answer.

“Stop staring at me. I don’t know. We haven’t even, I don’t know.”

“Huh. I think I thought you’d just say yes.”

“Because I’m so desperate for you?”

“No. Because we’ve both been on the same ‘let’s act like the ship is going down’ approach to this relationship,” Bucky touches Steve’s bottom lip, quick and then gone. He smiles at Steve, but it’s reserved, careful.

Steve realizes he must be pouting or something and looks down, like he’s checking to make sure the bags are all there. Bucky’s hand lifts, settles on the back of Steve’s neck, body swaying close. He kisses Steve near his ear. “It’s fine. You’re good. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods and takes a breath, wanting to not be so jittery and… scared? Bucky saying that makes him scared. He always wants to know more about Bucky and then the answers scare him. Steve is certifiable. 

“Anyways, there is no way in hell I’m moving in with you before you fuck me. Which is another thing, what do you mean it has to be _romantic_? It’s a dick up my ass. It isn’t romantic.”

“You’re being disingenuous. You know it’s romantic. You know you’ll cry.”

“I always cry,” he complains.

Bucky blows out a breath, and Steve looks at him. Bucky gets a little pink. “It gets me so fucking hard. Every time. I hope it doesn’t happen if something genuinely tear-inducing happens. That’d be fucked up.”

Steve snorts. “You’re fucked up then. My tears are genuinely warranted, at least sometimes, because you’re usually… you know.” _Hurting me._

“Maybe I know.”

“You do, you’re just being a jerk.”

“I’ve gone with the assumption you like the crying. Stress relief and all that. That might be self-serving because I love it so much.”

Steve inhales shakily. “I like that you like it. But, it’s not something I feel like I’m choosing to do. It’s annoying. It’s just… weak. It makes me… weak.”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky agrees, instantly. Which kind of pisses Steve off. “But, you get that it’s hot because you’re really strong and basically invincible, right? You’re the antithesis of weak. Not just physically but mentally. I don’t know what I’ve done to get that… _trust_ from you, but I don’t want to fuck it up. If you feel like it’s too much or I’m exploiting you or something then you should say. I don’t want that,” he says, sounding a little worried.

“No. That’s not it. I’m not saying that,” he says, reaching for Bucky. He cups Bucky’s face in his hand, enjoys that five o’ clock shadow roughness of his skin, brushes his thumb across his soft lips. “I guess I don’t quite know how I stumbled into getting you either, but I like it. It feels right. That gets scary. That the daddying and the crying and the… trash type things are so… perfect.”

Bucky raises a brow. “Perfect, you say? That’s a big word.”

Steve drops his hand, checks where they are. “Right. Next stop is our stop. Don’t screw it up like last time.”

“You were too distracting. You’re being very well behaved at the moment.”

Steve feels an inappropriate desire to do something not well behaved. Like Bucky has dared him or something.

“But, you like me hurting you?” Bucky asks, quietly, gaze on Steve’s lips. “To be clear.”

“I—” He looks down. “Yes.”

“You like it when it’s happening?”

“Bucky,” he says, like it’s an answer.

“And, you like it afterwards? When you get affection?”

“A lot.”

“Do you imagine me hurting you during sex? Do you fantasize about sex without me hurting you?”

Steve thinks about that for a minute. “What about embarrassing me or something? Does that count?”

“Sure.”

He answers slowly, mainly because he doesn’t quite think he’s saying what he wants to say, although there is definitely a part of him that wants to just shut up and say nothing. Be shy and make Bucky force it out of him instead of answering. “I imagine you doing things to me. Making me take things and do things.”

“Like what?”

The doors open, Steve pulls him out. Bucky blinks at him. “Good call. Tell me while we walk.”

Steve hates that idea. And he’s getting hard. “Everything. Like, as long as you want it, then I’m good. That’s what I think about, you needing things from me and me being able to give them to you. You know, better than anyone else.” Gah. He wishes he hadn’t added that last part because he doesn’t do stuff better than anyone else. He’s still learning. “I’ll get… I’ll get better at stuff, you know. Like blowjobs or, um, stamina,” he says.

It is, at least, easier to talk about when they’re walking. The movement and lack of eye contact.

“Jesus, I hope not. You’ll kill me.”

Steve looks at him, Bucky is smiling and glancing at him as they jog up the stairs.

“You must have had better,” Steve asks, because he’s a masochist and apparently wanted to make himself miserable in a non-sexy way too.

“Sweetheart, you have no fucking idea what I’ve had. But, no, I’ve never had _better_ and I don’t want _better_ and I’m sorry you don’t understand that yet.”

“Don’t say it like I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, but you’re unbelievably wrong and you don’t see it. Maybe you are a little stupid about this. It seems pretty obvious how I feel and how crazy I am about you but it’s like you’re tying yourself in knots to not believe it.”

Steve stops and looks at him. On one hand, he feels that sense of stubbornness he always has, that basically says no one is going to tell him what to do and think, because he has his own moral code and sense of self and he’ll push back against anyone, including Bucky, if need be. That part of him thinks Bucky is bullshitting him to make him feel better.

And then there’s some other part of him (the depraved Bucky obsessed part, the part that liked to fuck himself in his closet and the part of him that feels good and right when he calls Bucky daddy) that wants Bucky to be right and to show Steve, train him, _force_ him to see things the correct way. Give him a chance to prove how devoted he can be, how much better and perfect and tailored just to Bucky he can become.

They are fundamentally opposed and he doesn’t know if that’s a conflict he’ll always have or if it will somehow resolve itself. “My lack of experience is a fact. But, you know, I’m… I’m good at learning.” Ugh.

“Sweetheart, you keep thinking of this as acts or skills, like you’re going to deep throat me in a certain way or lick a certain way, and it will be amazing and you’ll be _the best_. That’s the thought process that means you think I’ve had better.”

“Uh huh,” he says, a little more annoyed, because Bucky has his therapist voice on and is definitely talking to Steve like he’s indulging him because Steve is an idiot.

Bucky squeezes his hand. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Steve wants to pull his hand away. Maybe. It’ll depend on what Bucky says next. “What if you could have the best blowjob in the history of blowjobs from Sharon or the worst one from me?”

“You haven’t given me a blow job, so I don’t know.”

“I know, you’ve been such a greedy slut it hasn’t happened yet,” he murmurs, eyeing Steve’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Steve says, shifting on his feet. His cock is hardening again, the brief respite to half-hard, born of annoyance and multiple orgasms, is over now apparently.

“I’m thinking of just tying you up and doing what I want with you. You need to get your dick sucked.” Bucky slides his hand over, squeezes Steve on the ass. His cock leaks, a sensation of heat and the need to get touched and rubbed is heavy in his balls, and then he’s just wet in his underwear.

“Don’t. God.” Steve touches Bucky’s scarf around his neck, hot. Usually, he’d take off his scarf but that’s…. No. He unzips his jacket instead.

“This is the shit you can’t fake,” Bucky says, and he grabs Steve by his scarf, pulling him to the side, in the slight shelter of an alley. Steve gets his back against the wall, legs spread, hips out, wanting Bucky to press him back. “Daddy,” he breathes, reaching for him. 

Bucky kisses him on the lips. “Look at you. This is it. You give me this and I don’t want anything else, I promise you. You want to give yourself to me so bad, Steve. It’s incredible and it makes me feel like I’m … invincible, too.” He leans closer to kiss Steve. “Perfect.”

Steve whimpers at that word, slides his hands down to Bucky’s ass and pulls him close. “God. Daddy, daddy, daddy,” he says, like his twenty minutes of trying to rein it in and get himself some distance has just made him even more desperate for it.

“You want me to make you perfect, too?”

“How?” Steve asks, as Bucky grinds into him.

“I don’t know. I think it comes in moments, like joy or grief. I think for you it’s a feeling. So, you watch for it and if you feel perfect you should tell me, so I can give it to you again. I only want to give you good things.”

“Yes, daddy,” he breathes, parting his lips and trying to pull Bucky closer by the lapels of his coat.

“Fuck. It isn’t that much farther. Let’s go,” Bucky says, giving him a hard kiss, lips closed and pulling back. Steve groans.

“Let’s have a normal conversation so I don’t do something stupid in the next five minutes. What did you do today?” Bucky asks.

“I went to see the team, figured I’d train with them, maybe talk about the mission a bit.”

“That’s good.”

“I don’t know if it was good. They all thought it was weird that I was there. They said I usually hide after a mission, need a day to myself. I think they were worried to see me there.”

“Is that true?”

“Well, yeah. And, the mission was shit. Some part of every mission is shit. When it’s over, I like to be alone. Even when I was with Sharon, if I had a mission, I tried to stay at the Tower after and sneak home at dawn. Or if I wanted to be in my own apartment, sometimes I just couldn’t even be in the same building with them, at least then she’d keep out of my way. It’s hard to fuck up, and let people down, and then have to instantly see them again. And, they want to be nice about it, which is worse. You get them hurt and they have to let it go and smile and be nice. Honestly, I kind of thought they’d be grateful for a bit of time to bitch about me and calm down.”

“So, what’s it mean that they were happy to see you?”

“I don’t know. They’re not _really_ happy to see me. In the war, you always had those people who got promoted because of their connections, or daddy bought them a commission, and you just knew you’d die if you were stuck with them. It was just shit luck. Now, the whole world looks at me and has this idea that I’m so fucking smart, everyone believes it, and even if they’ve figured it out, like fucking Rumlow, they’re still stuck with me because I’m Captain America.”

“You are a Captain. You have successes, right?” 

“I’m not a Captain. I hit some poor bastard pretending to be Hitler every night and they were like, ‘sure, you’re qualified, lead on!’ I jokingly called myself Captain and they were like ‘what the hell?’”

“This is a fascinating interpretation of history I’ve not heard before. If you make bad decisions why don’t they replace you?”

“I’m… the Captain. It’s America. I led before. I don’t know.”

“It seems pretty hard to believe that they just fall in line and do what you tell them to, if you make bad decisions. I don’t know her well, but I can’t imagine the Black Widow is much of a rule follower.”

“True,” he says, because Tony and Nat are definitely people who won’t just follow if something is off. Well, none of them are. But, that doesn’t mean he’s good at his job. Or worth the deference.

“People don’t follow a shield, they follow the person holding it, because they know the person holding it will protect them and will do their best.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. “You’re biased.”

“I’m sure I am. But, I’ve also been in the military and there are still idiots in charge, and if you were my commander and you said we were going over, I’d go and I’d be pretty damned certain that you’d do anything _you _could to make sure I got back.”

Steve stops on the sidewalk, looking at Bucky as he tries to make sense of, or peace with, that ‘you’ and what Bucky means. “You mean me? Not… him?”

Bucky smiles at him. “I mean you, in or out of the tights.”

“They’re not tights,” he says, happy to be distracted.

“I’ll call them whatever you want so long as you let me take them off you.”

Steve laughs. Bucky doesn’t laugh. Bucky runs his hand through his hair in his nervous way. Oh. 

“Son, is there something you need to tell me?” Steve asks, in his best Captain America voice.

“Maybe I’ll just gag you,” Bucky says, closing the distance. Steve gets his keys out of his pocket, determined to get into his damned apartment. It’s easier when he’s not looking at Bucky and Bucky isn’t touching him.

“Anyway, I wanted to say, I went in today because I felt like I could. You made me feel like that. It’s… never happened before. So… thank you,” he says, gets the key in the door and mercifully, doesn’t have to talk about it anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things! First of all, thank you everyone for commenting and staying so engaged with the story. This is longer than I typically write and I can't believe it's going to be close to 80k before we actually get to the butt sex. It's nuts. Poor us. Poor Steve. I want to let the story play out for as long as possible and I'm trying not to get restless. Comments really make that happen for me (I know, I say this all the time, I'm sorry to be repetitive). But, especially with the quarantine, if I can keep exploring their relationship in an interesting way, I will. 
> 
> I think we get the fruits of Steve and Nat's shopping trip on Sunday. And, it occurred to me, I don't know what he bought! What he'd wear. So, after the success of the toy box question (Uh, toy box is tomorrow btw!) I thought I would put it out there for you fine people to have something to salivate over with me- what is Steve going to wear for his daddy in his quest to get the D? Please, feel free to insert pics into the comments. Can we all drool together in a socially distant way? at this point I'm thinking tight, v neck cashmere sweater. you know, the type of one Chris wears that just show off how ridiculous his biceps are? This is serious people.

_“Anyway, I wanted to say, I went in today because I felt like I could. You made me feel like that. It’s… never happened before. So… thank you,” he says, gets the key in the door and mercifully, doesn’t have to talk about it anymore._

God, that’s a lot of himself and a real admission of just how much Bucky affects him. Helps him. In a way Steve hadn’t put together until he said it. It’s just another frightening example of how important Bucky is becoming to him.

Steve is becoming reliant upon him and there is no guarantee that he can keep him. He’s like the coyote in that cartoon, wandering along thinking things are fine, and then suddenly looking down and realizing he’s no longer on solid ground and could plummet a hell of a long ways down. Bucky is the ground under him. If he loses Bucky….

Maybe that just goes back to the need to not fuck it all up. As long as he doesn’t screw it up maybe he can keep Bucky. He’s never kept a person before in his life.

He had his ma.

When his ma had really been sick there, at the end, when he could see it in the thinness of her face and the way her eyes didn’t have the fight in them anymore, and it was like marking time, there was an awful moment where he realized he wasn’t sick.

He’d been sick off and on while her illness slowly got worse over the course of months, and at some point he’d kind of just decided they’d wind up going together. As long as you don’t have to go on without the person you need and love then it’s okay. That was his conclusion.

But, it’s weird to not die, when you think you’re gonna die, and when it would be a hell of a lot more helpful if you did die. Which, Steve has experienced twice now.

It’d been devastating to realize he was actually going to have to keep going alone. It isn’t a good idea to get used to Bucky being here when him leaving will be so painful. But… is there even a choice? Should he have tried to not love his ma because she wasn’t going to be around forever? How many parents would have never loved him because of how ill he always was?

His ma would have liked Bucky. A lot. He doesn’t know if she would have minded Steve loving him like he’s supposed to love a woman, but he doesn’t think she’d care. He’d been thirteen and become obsessed with one of the local boys, talked about him a lot and his ma had said he might need to be a bit careful, that it wouldn’t do for him to talk that way around everyone. Doesn’t that mean she knew?

He opens the door to his apartment and tries to not think about it anymore. He hangs up his jacket and hesitates over the scarf but he’s inside, he’s with Bucky, it’s weird to keep it on so he makes himself take it off and put it on the hook.

Bucky gets his coat up and bends down to take off his shoes but Steve stops him, has kind of stopped him before he’s thought it through. “Let me,” he says, and wishes he hadn’t but it’s too late now. He’s offered. 

Bucky’s helped him with his boots. It doesn’t have to mean anything. He goes down to the ground, undoes the laces and Bucky toes them off, runs a hand through Steve’s hair. Steve tries not to flinch. He gets up but keeps his head down, goes to the bathroom as an excuse for distance.

He washes his hands and then brushes his teeth, washes his face, looks longingly at the shower while occasionally wiping away tears. It’s only as big of a deal as he lets it be. If he doesn’t go back out there right now, then it’s going to be a big deal because he’ll have taken too long. Maybe if he fucks about for long enough, Bucky will come find him. Maybe he won’t.

He doesn’t know which one he wants.

If he can’t keep Bucky then he shouldn’t give him everything. He should hold some part of himself back, but he doesn’t have any idea how he’d do such a thing. And it sounds awful.

Disloyal even. If Bucky expects everything from him and he doesn’t give it, then isn’t he lying? What if him trying to protect himself is what makes Bucky go?

Maybe Bucky doesn’t expect everything. Isn’t that why he hasn’t fucked him yet? Maybe there is some way to keep part of himself back or safe so that if it ends, he’ll… survive?

There’s no hope for it. He wanders back out to the kitchen. Bucky is cutting up some carrots and there’s a plate with crackers and cheese. Steve goes up to him, presses into him from behind, holding onto him.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, hand over Steve’s on his stomach.

“It scares me that you mean so much already,” he whispers, offering up the problem to Bucky to deal with. He’s tired. It makes him sick to think of it.

Bucky turns in his arms and Steve burrows into his chest and neck. He takes a deep breath, hoping to calm down, but he’s on that edge of possibly crying or just keeping calm. It’s 50/50.

“It’d be weird if you didn’t question it. Self-preservation is a good thing. And, I think if you’d been a fly on the wall and heard my conversation with Sam about how amazing you are, you’d feel better, but also maybe run screaming for the hills.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks, voice thick.

“He thought I needed an intervention. Embarrassingly romantic words that will never be repeated, may have been said.”

“Like what?”

“That’s the whole point of them not being repeated. Just… imagine an obsessed teenage girl and you’ll likely be close.”

Steve smiles into his sweater, tightens his grip on him. “I need examples. Daddy.”

“No. It should be illegal to say it like that. You have to use your powers for good.”

“Give me an example. Please? Please, daddy?”

Bucky shifts, a little. Sighs. “You’re horrible.”

Steve presses closer. “Daddy, are you getting hard?”

“Have a carrot,” Bucky says, reaching behind him and offering it to Steve.

Steve eats the carrot. “There’s cheese on that plate,” he argues. Bucky gets him a piece of cheese and feeds it to him. “Tell me what you said.”

“No. It’s embarrassing.”

“I just took off your shoes like….”

“Like what?”

He shakes his head, kisses Bucky’s neck. He isn’t frantic with lust. Coming three times fairly recently has unsurprisingly helped with that. He gets to enjoy kissing him, tasting his skin and breathing him in and there isn’t that overwhelming desperation to come and feel things hard and rough.

“I really want to fuck you,” Bucky says, hands on Steve’s ass. 

“Good.”

Bucky kisses him, wet and deep and with his arms tight around his body.

“I can light a candle or twenty, you bring the cheese and I’m pretty sure that’s romantic,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s joking. He’s not joking.

Bucky nips his neck. His hands slide under Steve’s clothing, touching his stomach him until Steve shivers. “_Daddy_.”

“I love it when you call me daddy. Promise you’ll say it when I’m working my way into you.”

“I like saying it. I can definitely make that promise.”

“Good boy,” he whispers, into Steve’s mouth and shoves his hand down the back of Steve’s pants, between his cheeks, middle finger pressing against his hole. “Want you here.”

“Fuck. Daddy, do it,” he says, pressing back. “I want you to fuck me with just spit. The first time.”

Bucky jolts, surprised. “That sounds like a horrible idea. I don’t want to hurt you, especially your first time, and I don’t trust I’ll have enough self- control to be as patient as I should be for something like that. Sweetheart, I really don’t think you want that.”

He tries to pull away. Bucky crooks his finger, presses in, gently breaching him. But he’s dry so it’s like a threat. He feels trapped, impaled on the tip of one little finger so he can’t move. It’s amazing.

“Where are you going, honey?” Bucky asks, voice rough. He presses a little harder and Steve whimpers into Bucky’s mouth.

“Shh, just stay and you’re fine,” he breathes, kissing Steve gently. Steve’s hole flutters against Bucky’s fingers and he goes to his tiptoes and lowers down, heart beginning to race at the pinned feeling.

God, he wants more. He loves the idea of being forced onto Bucky’s fingers. Of being impaled and stuck on a cock. It isn’t up to him, he’s just the hole and there’s no escape. It’s going in him and he has to make peace with it. To please his daddy.

“You’re saying no?” Steve finally asks.

“I think I am, yeah. I’m sorry. Not for your first time, baby.”

“Then I want…..” Well, he doesn’t want to say it. “I have a dildo. A suction cup thing. I want to have to suck it while you fuck me then.”

“You want DP for your first time?” he asks, sounding disbelieving.

“What? It’s not like an actual person, it’d just be a thing in my mouth.”

“There’s a middle ground between double penetration and some cheese and crackers for your first time.”

Which is kind of funny. “It shows how accommodating I am. Versatile, even. I think you’re the one with the issue,” Steve manages, leaning into him. Bucky’s finger pressing into him is so fucking good. “Daddy,” he whispers, brushing his forehead against Bucky’s jaw, hungry and needy.

“You’re trembling. That’s how much you love it, sweetheart? Push out and you can have a little more,” he says, voice low and gruff.

Steve presses his face into Bucky’s neck and obeys, hole opening just a little as he pushes. Bucky presses, and it’s uncomfortable and dry and how can he be so hard from this? So clingy and starving to get his daddy’s cock in him. “It’s mean now. You’re being mean to me. You could fuck me right now, this moment. Why won’t you?”

“You’re right. It is my issue. I just want it to be good for you. And you want me to have whatever I want, and it’s fucked with my head a little, I think.”

He takes his finger away, kissing Steve’s gasp from his lips and then rubbing two fingers gently against Steve’s hole like he’s a girl or something. Which is so casually excessive and proprietary, feels like it’s something Bucky is doing for himself rather than for Steve that he gets weak and clings tighter.

“You know what I really want? For your first time? Taking your virginity? I want to fuck you in my bed.”

Which is the sort of information Steve isn’t sure what to do with. Here he was, fairly settled and happy to lazily kiss and grope Bucky, dwell in how good it felt to be touched and denied, and then Bucky says one thing and suddenly the switch is flicked.

“Yes, daddy,” he says, but he can’t even look him in the eyes now. Bucky wants him in his space, will put him in his bed and will fuck him there. Like… like a prize or a captive or something. “I don’t want clean sheets.”

Bucky shoves his other hand down the back of Steve’s pants and suddenly there are two fingers on his hole, dry, pulling his cheeks open and pressing like he might just decide to shove them both in and force Steve to take it. Steve grinds forward, getting pressure against his cock, is getting damp. He groans in annoyance.

“Are you wet now, sweetheart?”

He nods into Bucky’s neck. “I hate it. You made me come so much and still I’m all wet again.”

“And you’re hard, too.”

He nods, ashamed. The serum is embarrassing.

“Will you want to cry on my cock when I fuck you?”

He breathes carefully. It’s such a big, awful question and Bucky knows the answer. “You just want to hear me say it.”

“I do, but I’m serious, too.”

“Is crying romantic?”

“I’m thinking for us it is.”

“Yes, please.”

“Good boy. From what? Too much? Too sore? Getting in you too fast?”

“Anything. Whatever you decide, will be perfect if I’m in your bed.”

“You’d need to be able to say red. You always can.”

“I know. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“I get worried because you haven’t done it yet. I don’t know what your limits are.”

“Sounds like you need to put the work in,” Steve says, peevish. He doesn’t want to talk about getting fucked anymore. He wants it to happen. To have happened. 

Bucky moves his hands, uses one to keep Steve’s cheeks parted roughly, and spanks him awkwardly, gently on his hole. It doesn’t even hurt. He can barely feel it, but he falls apart. Steve tries to hold himself together but can’t even get a breath in before his throat is choked with tears and he’s clinging really hard to Bucky and then he’s sobbing into him.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s this?” he asks, chuckling quietly. He rubs his hands up and down Steve’s back. Gently, softly, murmurs to him as he soothes him.

But, Steve is physically close to his daddy and it registers dimly that Bucky was half hard and is now really hard. Steve sobs more, clings tighter, is needy and desperate and has a horrible sense of desperation, to be filled and fucked and to understand that it’s going to be okay. That he hasn’t been bad even though his daddy hit him _there_.

His daddy needs to use him now, reassure him that it’s alright. “Why did you do that?” he asks, tremulously.

“Even the best boys have too much attitude sometimes,” Bucky says, eyes blown wide with lust. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he sobs. He shouldn’t be spanked there. “Daddy?”

“Hush, baby, you’re okay,” Bucky says, and he puts his hand on Steve’s ass, pulls him closer, grinding his big, hard cock against Steve’s. Bucky grunts in pleasure as Steve clings to him. “It was just a little swat, wasn’t it? On your pretty little hole?” Bucky’s hips shift, getting more pressure on his own cock as Steve weeps in betrayal.

“It wasn’t. It _hurt._”

Bucky laughs quietly, hand going back down Steve’s pants. “You’re being silly. It wasn’t. We both know it hurt a lot more when I put my finger in you dry. You’re okay. Daddy will rub it better,” he says, a promise. He rubs two fingers gently over Steve’s hole. “Does that feel better, baby?” he croons in Steve’s ear.

“Yes, daddy,” he finally says, because Bucky is waiting.

“Good boy. You’re still hard. And feel how hard you made daddy?” he asks, pressing his erection more firmly into Steve. 

“Promise you won’t do it again,” Steve demands.

“I don’t think so. In fact, no. I won’t make that promise at all. God, baby, fucking look at you. All this from one little spank?” he asks, not quite believing it.

Steve sobs harder, unable to explain. Bucky makes Steve meet his gaze, searching Steve’s expression while Steve blinks away the tears. “Don’t. Daddy, please don’t. Promise me.”

“You have no idea how sweet you are right now. Come on then,” he says, dark and not very nice, and kisses Steve on his cheek as he turns him towards the counter.

Bucky pulls off his sweater and his undershirt, hands them both to Steve. “Just make yourself a little pillow, baby.”

Steve clutches them to him, cries harder as the reality of the situation sinks in. He’s sobbing and devastated and it’s made his daddy hard. Steve’s pants are pulled down and he doesn’t even try to help, just clutches Bucky’s clothing tighter and hiccups into the material.

Bucky undoes his own clothing and Steve finally gets a full breath, calming down a little. Steve gets another smack on his ass, just the cheek and he cries out in disbelief, shoves his face into Bucky’s shirt, breathing in the scent of him, sobbing again while Bucky presses his hard cock against Steve’s ass, wipes his own wetness on Steve’s cheek.

“You’ll stay tight now, won’t you? Let me fuck your thighs?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, into the fabric and knows his shoulders are shaking with how betrayed he feels.

“I bet you are,” he says, voice low. “Do you like daddy’s sweater and shirt?”

“Want you to be nice to me.”

“I am being nice to you. I was gentle with you, sweetheart. But, it’s difficult for you and that makes me really hard. Daddy has to come now and that’s what you’re for, isn’t it? Bury your face, go on then. It won’t take long, I can fucking tell you.”

Bucky reaches around Steve’s body, touching his balls, feeling how full and tight they are against his body. Steve’s cock pulses at the nearby touch, come sliding down the shaft. He can feel it. “Are you going to come if I touch your dick?”

“I don’t know.”

Bucky smacks him and Steve cries out, shoves forward to get away and bangs his elbow on the tile. “Don’t know what?”

“Don’t know, _daddy._”

“Better. So much better. Be good and don’t come. God, you should be so proud, so smug that you got me like this. You’ll be wanting me to spank that pretty hole all the time, won’t you?” he demands.

“I _won’t_. I hate it. I can’t stand it. Please, don’t do it again,” he begs, crying at the very idea of it.

“Fuck, baby. Tight for daddy now,” he orders, again, smacks Steve on the ass and his hard cock is pressing between Steve’s thighs.

“Daddy. Please come on me,” he whispers.

“Will that make you feel better? Absolve you and make it worth it?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, pressing his face into Bucky’s shirt. He tries to get his mouth on the material, sucking it as Bucky shifts behind him.

“Let’s get you slick. Make it nice for daddy. Hang on,” he says. He opens a cupboard, pulls down the olive oil and puts some in his hand, slathers it on his cock and presses slick hands between Steve’s thighs.

“Oh, god. Daddy, _no_.” He’s a hole for real. He’s a sheath that wasn’t wet enough. He doesn’t even get slick or spit but cooking oil. It’s devastating.

He drops, something inside him collapsing in on himself and reaching outwards, needing to know that his daddy is content. He lays there, helpless, the overwhelming need to be good suffusing every part of him.

He needs Bucky to come.

The feel of Bucky’s fingers bruising his hips makes him warm inside, the sound of his panting is like air in Steve’s lungs. The heavy slide of Bucky’s cock is everything as Bucky’s shaft prods hard into Steve’s balls. Steve grunts and shuffles. 

“No. _Stay,_” Bucky orders, hard, and spanks him on the right cheek. “I said tight, babydoll.”

“Daddy!” he sobs, yanked back to reality. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says, over and over again, wanting Bucky to know and forgive him. He’s good. He is.

Bucky uses him, fucking him faster and harder, grunting louder the more beside himself Steve gets. It’s awful how much Bucky wants from him.

“Touch yourself. Come, sweetheart. Can you come and cry for me?”

Cry, yes? He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. But, come?

Steve reaches for himself with one hand and Bucky spanks him again. Steve presses into the material, squeezes it tight with both arms, needing to hold it and be held more than he needs to touch his dick.

“Good boy, Steve. I love this. Go ahead and wiggle while daddy spanks you. Make daddy come,” he urges, and spanks him on the ass over and over again. It can’t be much. Ten times, maybe a little more, but Steve twists and pulls, struggling and sobbing, to get away from each hit. The moment he starts to settle and calm, another blow lands while Bucky’s hard cock throbs hotly between his thighs.

“That’s beautiful. Turn your head. Show daddy how much you’re crying.” He does, gets a hand in his hair, to keep him there and another smack on his ass. He cries out and wiggles away from it, up and back again, cock sliding between his legs. Bucky moans.

“That’s so fucking good, baby.”

Finally, his hands go to Steve’s hips, holding him still like he’s a wild animal. Steve gets his head buried in the fabric, sobbing loudly, grateful it’s muffled. Bucky comes hard, all over Steve’s balls and dripping down his thighs.

Bucky is sweaty and hot against his back. Steve can’t lift his face. It’s hard to breathe. Bucky creates distance, cock slipping from between Steve’s thighs. He wipes the oil and come onto Steve’s ass cheek.

“God. Fuck, I needed that, sweetheart. I didn’t know how much I needed that.” Steve breathes, uneven and hitched. “Give daddy a look. Let’s see you,” he says, fondly, and pulls Steve up from the counter with a hand in his hair. It isn’t particularly hard, but it makes Steve feel like a thing and he wants to collapse down to the ground and suck on his daddy’s cock until he’s happy with him again.

Bucky turns him around. He looks down Steve’s body. Does that half laugh again. His daddy’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright. He looks relaxed, ready to be affectionate.

“You’re so sweet. So messy. Look what a messy slut you are for me. Do you see it?”

He shakes his head, dully, closes his eyes, scared of what he might see if he looked. Tears slip down his cheeks and he presses his lips hard together, not wanting to have his lip wobble pathetically.

Bucky leads him, shuffling, to the bedroom, pants around his ankles. The come drips. He stands Steve in front of the mirror.

“Oh, you’re going to make it difficult for yourself, are you? That’s fine. Open your eyes. Look at what a messy slut you are for me.” Steve opens his eyes, looks at Bucky first. Bucky’s eyes are fixed on his, staring into his fucking soul it seems. Calculating, assessing.

“I hated it,” Steve says, voice hard. Fuck Bucky drawing his own conclusions.

“What did you hate?”

He shakes his head, can’t speak.

“Look in the mirror. Look at your bitten lips. How red they are. Aren’t they beautiful?”

He looks quickly and then away. Blushes. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“Look at how pink your cheeks are. Look at those tear tracks. Daddy will get you a tissue,” he says, but doesn’t move and it hits Steve like a truck that he means _next time_. Next time he’ll get Steve a tissue and have him blow his nose.

“N-no,” he whispers.

“Look at you holding onto my clothes. How fucking needy that made you for me. Look, baby.” Steve looks. The undershirt is all damp with tears and worse. His fingers are white from clutching them so hard. He should drop the clothes, throw them at Bucky, swear at him. He’s frozen still.

Bucky kisses his cheek and Steve jerks away from the touch. “Still prickly? Look down, baby. Look at all that come on your legs and on your jeans. Still have your pants on. You needed it so fast you couldn’t even get undressed. Daddy needed you so much I couldn’t even take your clothes off.”

“That’s not what happened,” he says, clinging desperately to the hope that he’s right. He isn’t right. He knows it. Shivers.

“Messy slut. How many times did you come? I came once.”

He doesn’t know. He genuinely has no idea, but he’s soft now and there’s a throbbing in and behind his balls that makes him think he came explosively and more than once. But, he didn’t like it. “You shouldn’t spank me there,” he says.

“Look at the back, baby.” He turns Steve, 3/4 of the way and runs fingers down Steve’s ass cheek, brings his fingers back up, but sets his nails, scratching the skin so it feels like fire and pleasure at once. Steve uses every bit of strength inside him to not fall to the ground.

“I said, _look_.” Bucky’s metal hand clamps down on the back of Steve’s neck. He looks. His ass has bright pink lines from Bucky’s nails and under that is a pale flush of color. It’ll be gone in fifteen minutes. It barely registers. It wasn’t hard. It didn’t even mean anything. He feels destroyed by it. It’s just too much to ask from him.

“Don’t you love it? Doesn’t it look nice?”

He’s in a weird state of shock and can’t even agree or disagree. Bucky moves him to the bed, has him lay down. Steve hugs the clothing tighter, unwilling to let go. Bucky says something, fond and pleased, laughter in his tone, and rubs at Steve’s ass gently. He tugs Steve’s clothes off and pulls the covers over him. “Have a little rest while I make dinner. Tomorrow I’ll fuck you in my bed.”

“You won’t… you won’t spank me again?” His voice cracks. “Not ever? Daddy?”

“What do you think?”

He shoves his face into Bucky’s clothing and wants to sob, but he’s too tired.

“It was a lot. But, I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful, Steve. My babydoll. God, sweetheart, you gave daddy _everything_. You made me feel so good. I think you liked it more than you realize. It’s something we’ll work on.”

“No! I thought you cared about me?”

Bucky looks at him, thoughtfully. “Is that really how that made you feel? Don’t answer right now. I want you to rest and think about it. It was very difficult for you and you were perfect.”

“Don’t say that word.”

“I can say that word. I’m your daddy and I get to decide. You were perfect. In that moment, you were the _most perfect_. For me. I don’t think I’ve ever been that hard in my entire life, Steve. You did that. Now I want to take care of you, because I know that was difficult for my very best boy. I love that you gave that to me. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I didn’t. You… you took it.”

That hangs between them, unpleasant and heavy.

“You said you wanted to give me everything. You said you wanted me to take everything.”

He swallows. “But, it’s too hard.”

“I know, baby. Rest for a little,” he says, kissing Steve on the cheek, staying close for long moments while he pecks him with kisses and brushes his hair away from his face. “Good boy. Such a good boy for your daddy.”

He nods, turns his head and kisses Bucky’s hand, then presses into the pillow, making himself tight into himself as the tears come again. He was good. He really was. He was perfect and he made his daddy so happy. And it was so difficult he doesn’t know if he can ever do it again.


	16. Chapter 16

“What if it’s too difficult?” he asks, in the middle of the night. Bucky has his arm around him. Bucky’s body fills with tension and then relaxes, muscles clenching and then Bucky lets it go. Another example of just how much control he has over himself. It’s… unusual. 

“Which one? If submission is too difficult or spanking?”

“Any of it.” He means spanking. There isn’t anything else they’ve done that has come close to affecting Steve like that. Or Bucky. “You really like it,” Steve whispers, worried.

Bucky kisses his shoulder. “I like lots of things, but I’m a particular fan of Steve Rogers in general, and I will survive if spanking in all forms is taken off the table. We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he says, and goes quiet. His arm is heavy and he thinks Bucky will go straight back to sleep if Steve doesn’t say something.

He has nothing to say. He’s just afraid of losing Bucky. It’s like a stuck record. Steve is fine, something happens and instantly he’s stuck on this idea that it’s over, that he can’t keep Bucky, that Bucky is this enigma.

Is that because Steve is afraid and insecure, or is it real? He’s almost positive there’s something missing, some piece of Bucky and his history that Steve doesn’t understand, and he isn’t sure if that’s because of his own lack of experience, his inability to see the truth, or if Bucky is hiding something from him.

“How did you lose your arm?” he asks.

“I fell,” he says, easily. As if the question is expected, or the subject change makes sense. 

“What?” He’d expected the answer to be IED or something.

“I was on a mission. It went very badly. I woke up and I’d lost time, lost my memories, but most of the arm was gone. Broken and then frozen and then septic. It was take the arm or probably die. So I was told.”

“What kind of technology is it?”

“Experimental.”

“But, it’s not US military, is it? Is it Stark?”

“It’s not something I’m supposed to talk about,” he says, running a hand gently up and down Steve’s side. He yawns. 

“Not even with Captain America?”

“Funny,” Bucky murmurs, shifting his head on the pillow, getting comfortable so he can go back to sleep.

“You really won’t tell me?”

There’s a long beat of silence and then Bucky sighs. “Captain America can come back with a warrant or haul me in and get the information. I think my boyfriend would leave it alone, though.”

“What can it matter who made it or where? How long have you had it?”

“Where was your last mission? Who was there? What did you do?”

“That’s not the same. You’re no longer in the military, right?”

“I’m a therapist.”

“That’s… not quite an answer.”

“I guess it isn’t.”

Steve turns on the light. Sits up and looks at him. Bucky has his forearm over his eyes to shield himself from the light. It’s his real arm and he looks at the mass of scaring on Bucky’s shoulder, realizes he hasn’t even really touched it or anything. They start fooling around and Steve doesn’t know what the hell is going on half the time. There’s no coherent thought process or making his own choices. He waits for Bucky to pleasure him or hurt him or take from him, and it’s not like being in bed with Sharon where there’s just a body under him he can explore if he wants to.

How much of everything they do is like that? Bucky guiding and Steve too addle-pated to pay any fucking attention at all. Not even realizing the right questions until it’s too late.

“Will we ever have normal sex?”

“You’ll be happier if you can make yourself not think of it like that,” he says, sounding tired.

Steve grinds his teeth.

Bucky takes his arm down and looks him over, down his chest to where the sheet is pooled in Steve’s lap. “Are you asking me if you’ll ever top?”

“Maybe.”

“Probably not.”

Steve doesn’t even think he wants to top. Hell, he hasn’t even been able to get fucked yet, let alone wonder if he wants to fuck Bucky. But having fucked Sharon and knowing how that works, he’s not sure it makes the list of things he wants to do with Bucky anytime soon. Or ever. It doesn’t seem right.

“Why not?” Steve asks, anyway.

“That’s not our relationship. That’s not something I enjoy. I’ll let you eat me out. I’ll ride your face and I might let you finger me every now and again, but I’m not sure what the situation would be for me to let you fuck me.” 

It’s a stupid thing to get annoyed about, he knows that, but the certainty of the way Bucky says it, annoys him. It pisses him off that Bucky is so calm and good at shutting Steve’s questions down. And it really pisses him off that he isn’t sure if Bucky is doing it on purpose or if Steve is paranoid and defensive. “Do you have any idea how many people want me to fuck them? How often I get offers?”

Bucky grins at him. “I could ballpark it.”

Steve ignores the flattery, unwilling to let it go. “Nothing bothers you.”

Bucky snorts. “What kind of reaction are you looking for? Actually, that’s a real question. Do you have _any idea _what kind of reaction you’re looking for when you get like this?”

“Get like this?”

Bucky gives him a flat look. Steve glares back at him, unwilling to look away and give in. Bucky sighs, blinks, giving in. So easy. Again.

“There’s another way to think of it, you know. You won’t ever have to be something you’re not with me. You can be as lazy and cock hungry as you want with your daddy. You can be safe in the knowledge that you will always get it. It’s my responsibility to provide you with the cock you need and want.”

“Then I’m probably so annoyed because you’re not doing that.”

“Exactly. So why don’t you save up all the bullshit until Sunday, after you finally get fucked, and then see if you’re still saying you want to be the one to give it?”

Steve swallows. “I don’t like that you’ve decided. That you’re not… willing to consider it. There’s unequal and then there’s… I don’t know.”

“I can’t tell you about the arm, and I can’t tell you about what I did, or even what my current status is with… the military. I just can’t. You know that. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“If you were in the Middle East, why would your arm have frozen?”

“I wasn’t always in the Middle East. I don’t think that’s all that surprising. I’m not trying to trick you or lie to you. I _can’t_ tell you. Considering what you do and how many days and nights I’m going to be worrying about you and having no fucking idea if you’re safe or alive, it’s pretty fucking rich for you to be hung up on this. Don’t you think? If you really want the whole story and want me to break confidentiality, I will. I’ll tell you everything about my past and I’ll expect you to tell me everything about your future. Where you go and when.”

He’s so smug when he says it. Knows Steve can’t and won’t make that deal. “Fuck you,” Steve growls, throws back the bedding and goes into the bathroom. Now what? He goes to the bathroom, drinks water, washes his hands. He wants to go back to bed but he isn’t sure how to make that happen. He isn’t going to apologize. And, he knows Bucky is right, but he’s also annoyed at how easily Bucky has established all these boundaries.

He’s probably in there, asleep, and doesn’t give a shit that Steve feels sick about it. His calf itches and he scratches it, realizes it’s dried come from earlier. He’d fallen asleep, been woken up to eat and then had brushed his teeth and collapsed back into bed and fallen back asleep, still recovering from the mission and the sleep-deprivation, the emotion of Bucky making him come and then spanking him. It was a lot.

He takes a shower, scrubbing come and god, olive oil, off of himself before turning the shower off and getting underwear and putting them on. He eyes his box of toys, feeling a little bit melancholy and alone and wishes he was full. He stares at the box for a long moment and then turns away from it, sighing and feeling worse for wanting it.

Bucky is in the doorway.

“Shit! How are you so fucking quiet?”

A flash of surprise goes over Bucky’s face and is then gone. “I want you to come back to bed.”

“I will. I am.”

“Underwear off.”

“Why?” he asks, half-laughing and crossing his arms defensively.

“Do you have handcuffs?”

Steve blushes. “No.”

Bucky seems surprised. “Rope? Scarves?”

“No.”

“And you don’t have a plug?”

“No, I told you I didn’t,” he says, anxiety rising up within him. 

Bucky runs his hand through his hair. “What do you have? Is that your toy box?” he asks, looking up at where Steve had just been looking.

“Yeah,” he answers, but it’s horrible.

“Why don’t you bring it to the bedroom?” he says, kind of like a question, but he’s already walking away. Steve gets it down, hesitates, thinks about putting it back. He doesn’t have a good reason for saying no. He just… it’s weird and personal and Bucky is going to be disappointed.

He’s never thought about his toy box in terms of how it would be perceived by someone else. He puts it back on the shelf and goes back out to the bedroom. Bucky is coming back into the room. He’s got his scarf in hand. He walks up to Steve and puts it around his neck.

“Better?”

“Yes, daddy.” It is better. He feels calmer, his attention is on Bucky, the scarf a reminder that Bucky wants him, has a claim upon him. Bucky stands in front of him for an unreasonably long time, touching the scarf, adjusting it minutely, running his fingers along the bottom of it, behind his neck. He gives it a tug and Steve almost stumbles into him.

“Good boy. Bring daddy your box. We have a big day tomorrow and you need to sleep well.”

All the good feelings slip away and Steve crosses his arms. Bucky frowns at the new distance between them.

“It isn’t what you think it is. I don’t think I want to. I don’t,” he says, more certain. 

“Is this a test?” Bucky asks, after a moment.

“No. What? No. What do you mean?”

Bucky narrows his gaze. “Are you trying to see if I’ll snap and spank you? Or threaten you with it?”

“Of course not. That hadn’t even occurred to me.”

“Then I think maybe you’re dropping a bit, so let’s get you feeling like you belong to me and that will help. Okay?”

Steve swallows. “I want to be yours. But, I don’t want to give you the box.”

Bucky nods, but his jaw is hard and square. He isn’t happy, but he’s not going to say anything. “Okay. Let’s go to bed.” Bucky holds out his hand.

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to do?” Bucky asks. He sounds tired. Hell, he looks tired.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think you’d let it go that easily.”

“I don’t want to fight with you. It’s the middle of the night and we’ve only been together for days. You just made a big ultimatum about spanking and that’s your right. I asked you to strip and you didn’t. I want to get you settled and you don’t want that. You’re putting up boundaries. Okay. We can re-evaluate tomorrow, if that seems appropriate. I want to go to bed now,” he says, and he lets go of Steve’s hand. Steve wants to grab him back. Bucky letting go of him, turning his back on him… no.

“So, you’ll just let me?” Steve asks, terrified at the idea.

Bucky turns around and he looks pissed. Steve hasn’t seen him lookangry before. He hates it. “I don’t fucking own you, Steve. I haven’t collared you or even fucked you. You just got out of a relationship. I’m doing my best to approach this as the real deal. You and me. That is my goal. So, yeah, I’m going to let you. You either choose to do what I want, and to be my good boy or you don’t. And, if you ever find yourself with someone else, and they aren’t willing to back off when you’ve been together for _days_, then you should fucking run. I’m _not_ the asshole.”

Steve grabs the scarf with one hand and puts his other hand around his stomach. He might be sick.

“Sweetheart,” he says, calmer. “You don’t get it both ways. I can’t respect some boundaries and run rough shod over others, and I sure as shit won’t do it when it hasn’t even been a fucking week. What happens when I get it wrong? Hell, maybe I already did get it wrong. With the spanking,” he says, looking away.

“What do you mean if I’m with someone else?”

“_Don’t._ We’re done now. I’m going to bed. I want you to come with me. I want to hold you and in the morning we’ll have breakfast and I’m pretty sure things we’ll be fine. I’ll bring you coffee if you’re still in bed, I’ll help you with your enema and we’ll talk about the rest of the weekend and then go to my place. We just have to get to _that.”_

Steve turns around and goes back to his closet. He hears Bucky sigh. Steve takes off his underwear, he gets down the box, and he goes back to the bedroom. Bucky looks up at him, surprised, clearly about to start pacing, metal hand on his hip, flesh hand on his forehead as he apparently ruminated on the problem of his unruly boy.

He drops the box onto Bucky’s side of the bed and backs away.

“No, come here,” Bucky demands, and Steve goes to him, grateful.

Bucky cups his face in his hands, presses their foreheads together. “Thank you. Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, sounding so relieved Steve wants to cry.

Steve swallows hard. “I don’t want to be bad.”

Bucky smiles, but it’s a bit miserable. “You’re not bad. These things are difficult and I’m amazed it’s going as well as it is. But, you’re not bad, baby.”

It’s entirely possible that’s a lie. Steve doesn’t know. He usually knows when people are lying to him, but he really has no fucking clue when it comes to Bucky.

“Can you think of something in there that would make you feel better?”

Steve shrugs. Yes. No. “I don’t want to be here while you look through it. Please?”

Bucky looks torn. “Let’s…. No. You shouldn’t leave while I go through your things. That can’t be a good idea. This…. _Fuck_. This is your stuff. And they are your personal, private things. If you don’t want me to look in the box, then let’s leave it.”

Steve hates how uncertain Bucky sounds.

Steve has made Bucky this way. He’s supposed to support his daddy and make him feel good, and he’s doing the exact opposite. Steve yanks the lid off the box and starts pawing through it, takes out his old uniform and his old shirts, the sketchbooks someone sent him anonymously a few months after he came out of the ice. He pulls out a shoebox and opens it up, takes out a shoe and pulls his dildo from inside, where it’s wrapped in cloth. He plunks it onto the bed. He takes out his prostate massager from the bottom of the box. It’s boring and doesn’t even vibrate. He fucking _hated_ it. How frustrating it was.

How much work it took to make something happen. A dribble of come, a hint of feeling. Denial. Loneliness. Misery.

He scrabbles through a stack of letters and feels around until he finds the cock ring that is in an envelope and which he’d thought Sharon might overlook if she went through his things. That’s it. That’s all he has. A few pathetic little secrets he tried to keep for himself. Terrified Sharon would find out. He did his best to keep himself and his wants out of sight and out of mind until he couldn’t fucking resist anymore.

He’d pretended he was normal until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Bucky knows that, but this is his entire fucking miserable sex life in one container and now Bucky can see it physically represented and that’s worse than knowing intellectually or hearing about it. 

“I don’t want to go back to that. _Fuck!_” Steve yells, and grabs the box, throwing it to the corner of the room. “What are you even doing with me? Look at what a fucking disaster I am. Just go. We both know I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. It’s going to end anyway. Just go.”

“Don’t be a brat. Put your things away.”

“Why? This is so _stupid_.”

“God damnit, Steve. _Stop_. Fucking stop. I mean it. Am I your daddy? _Am I_?” He advances on Steve. “You are _my boy_. That is who you are to me. Sometimes you’re good and sometimes you’re naughty, but you are always my boy until you tell me that I’m no longer your daddy.”

“I—” His throat chokes with tears. He gags and has to put his hand around his stomach. “Need you.”

“Am I?” He demands, not moving closer, not touching Steve.

He nods.

“Not good enough. Say it.”

“Daddy. I’m sorry, daddy,” he whispers.

“Pick up your things.”

Steve reaches for him, drops his hand. He picks up the dildo and the massager, the cock ring and all of the things he uses to disguise his few measly toys and puts them in the box. He puts the lid back on it.

“Go put it away.”

Steve takes it to the closet, so numb and sick but for once in his life there are no tears. Just misery all stopped up inside himself. And then he remembers the metal dildo. It’s in his gym bag. He was so terrified to leave it with the other things he wound up putting it in the one place he figured Sharon wouldn’t look. He can’t just go get it now. It’s bright and perfect and really, kind of beyond him.

It represents the version of himself he wants to be and what he wants when he’s with Bucky. This box, these things, that’s who he really is. Was. He doesn’t know. Presenting that contrast wouldn’t help. He grabs his underwear as he goes back out, certain his daddy won’t want to see his naked body after what he’s done. He goes back towards the bedroom, stands in the doorway, no idea what to do with himself.

“What the fuck is that?” Bucky demands, pointing at the underwear.

“If you don’t want to see me.”

“Drop them. Put them in the fucking box for all I care. I want to_ burn_ the fucking box.”

Steve lets them go.

“I don’t know if I’m more pissed off at you or me. Get into bed,” he orders.

Bucky stalks into the bathroom and to the closet, comes back out with several of Steve’s ties. “I’m going to tie you up and gag you. Which ones should I use?”

“The blue one and the Captain America one,” Steve says, weakly. It had been given to him as a ‘joke.’ Bucky snaps his fingers and points at the bed. Steve gets in and Bucky demands his wrists with a gesture. He ties Steve’s hands together quickly, knotted and with a leash left over.

“Daddy,” he whispers, watching Bucky’s hands work, his mobility and his world shrinking before his eyes, his control disappearing. He’s at Bucky’s mercy now. Thank god.

Bucky ties the gag around Steve’s mouth next.

“One more,” Bucky says, and disappears again. Steve tries to speak. It’s garbled. He tries to say daddy while Bucky is gone. He waits. Bucky is back almost instantly and ties Steve’s ankles together, gets into bed with him and turns out the light. Steve stays very still. Nothing is too tight. He could break it, of course. He wishes he couldn’t.

That’s something that’s been stolen from him. He can never be completely taken advantage of and used against his will. He can’t give Bucky his complete surrender and self. He’ll always be able to get free if he wants to. A horrible sound comes from him. 

“Get between my legs. If you take your nose off my balls before dawn you’ll fucking regret it. Go to sleep,” he orders, shifting his legs open. Steve is clumsy getting there, hands braced on Bucky’s thigh, shoulders awkward as he gets into position. Bucky is hot there, earthy and Steve trembles, moans a little at being so close to him and yet denied.

“Just think. If you’d been good, you’d have my dick in your mouth. I might have let you sleep with your tongue in my hole. Good boys get rewarded. I don’t need to spank you, to make you miserable. Feel that?” he says, and tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, shoves his face against Bucky’s hardening cock. “Everything you do makes me hard. How pathetic do you think I am that I’d walk away if I couldn’t spank you? How little do you think I want you? If I’m your daddy then you have faith in me to want you for the good and the bad, and to understand your limitations. We can’t do this all the fucking time. Two steps forward and five back on an unending loop. Good night,” he practically growls, and exhales hard.

Steve cries. Tries to keep it quiet so his daddy can sleep. Bucky’s not sleeping. He’s tense and aloof. His dick doesn’t stay hard. Steve makes sure to breathe his daddy in, to stay pressed close like he was supposed to. He tries to show how sorry he is by staying still and quiet, obeying as strictly as he can what Bucky told him to do. He’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky finally says, and touches his hair again. Steve cries harder. Bucky shifts, undoes the gag. “Have a suck, sweetheart. You’ll feel better once you make daddy come.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and sucks Bucky into his mouth, frantic to get him hard.

“Slow. Not so rough. This is your apology. Choke yourself. Get me sloppy.” Steve pulls back, stops crying and starts over. Little kisses and licks, all up and down the shaft. He sucks on Bucky’s balls and dips down lower. Bucky spreads his legs so he can tongue at his hole and then he goes back up, sucks and it takes a long time to get Bucky hard, which is also something Steve isn’t used to. It’s worse than anything else he’s ever experienced. Hell, it’s worse than the Valkyrie slamming towards the ice. Steve takes him deep, chokes and gags himself as much as he can while Bucky pets his hair and guides him.

“That’s so good, sweetheart. You’re sorry, aren’t you?”

Steve sniffles and nods. He shoves himself down, gagging and coughing as Bucky’s cock finally fills his throat, laying under Steve, passive but for the gentlest hand in his hair. 

“I forgive you. Always. Let’s get some come in you, babydoll. So you know you made your daddy happy. Are you ready?” Steve makes a sound of relief, goes down, trying to swallow, gagging hard. Bucky groans in pleasure but doesn’t come.

Steve has to pull back. He whimpers and coughs.

“Easy now. Are you hard?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“You know you don’t get to come, right?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. You’re a good boy. This is what daddy wants. You’re going to take me deep again, you’re going to cough and choke and be the best cock hungry slut and hold me in there until I come. I’m going to be a little rough on you. But, you can do it, can’t you?”

“Make me if I can’t?” he asks, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s hard ball, nosing into the crease of his thigh.

“No. We’re not doing that right now. You’ll either do it because you want to or you won’t. If you try to pull off, I’m going to let you.”

“But, I’m sorry. Help me.” He blinks through the tears.

“I know, baby. But, we’ve got a big weekend ahead of us. You need to think about what you want to happen. How good you’re going to be and how much you want me to take charge. Daddy’s spoiled you by taking over too easily and it’s not done you any favors. Go on now.”

“Daddy, please—”

“No. Get my cock in your throat and choke on it, or I’m just going to come on your face.”

Steve sucks Bucky’s cock back into his mouth, bobs and goes down, pressing his face into Bucky’s pubic hair, swallowing and gagging. He coughs and splutters, pulls half-off because Bucky hasn’t come yet. He tries again, gets a twitch in his throat, a heavy taste of pre-come in his mouth and he moans. He goes down again, determined to stay down until Bucky comes. His stomach heaves, he takes his daddy so deep, and the sound he makes is one step away from just puking.

“Perfect,” Bucky grunts, and shoves deeper, stays hard and massive in Steve’s throat while he comes. Steve doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare breathe. Every bit of him stays focused on not clenching or relaxing a muscle. Any change and he’ll vomit. Bucky stops coming. He pets Steve’s hair. When he finally slumps back, Steve pulls off and coughs for long moments, curls up closer. 

“I did good, daddy?”

“Perfect. You know it. Do you feel how good you did?” He presses into Bucky’s thigh. “Steve. I’m serious. Do you feel it, baby?”

The praise is such a relief he moans. Perfect. He did good. He was bad and his daddy got angry and everything is now okay. “I’m tired. And kind of… that was so hard, daddy.”

“I know. I know. Perfect boy. But you get to rest now and you know I’m happy with you and that you pleased me more than anyone ever could. Don’t you?”

He nods, kisses Bucky’s balls gently. “Yeah, I think so. Please don’t let me fuck it up again.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, on a sigh.

Steve is hard. Achingly hard. His heart is beating steadily and it’s echoing inside his cock and his balls. He presses gently into the bed and Bucky gives his hair a tug.

“None of that.”

“So hard. Feels like….”

“What, baby?”

“You. Everything is you,” he says, and presses his face into Bucky’s spit wet balls and goes to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to apologize for getting us all excited about the toy box and what might be in it. It occurred to me when the suggestions started rolling in that it wouldn't be filled with lots of exciting things bc steve didn't have a good sex life. he hated what he liked so if anything it would be a shameful thing. so, there we are. Sorry. However!!! The clothing, that will not have a miserable outcome and that will be a happy chapter. Promise!!!


	17. Chapter 17

The good thing about having such an emotional night is that Steve sleeps deeply. He almost wakes up when Bucky gets up in the morning. But doesn’t. He grumbles and hears Bucky make a pleased sound as he helps get Steve up the bed and onto the pillow, in the warm space his daddy just left.

“Beautiful boy,” Bucky murmurs, as Steve drifts back to sleep.

When he wakes up next, he’s turned around, somehow has his arm around Bucky, who is sitting in bed next to him, legs outstretched, looking at his phone.

“I’m so gross,” Steve murmurs, moving closer, pressing his forehead into Bucky’s hip. He kisses Bucky there, even though Bucky is dressed and he won’t really be able to feel it through the material. It’s the act. He wants to do it even if it can’t be appreciated properly. Steve roasted under the covers all night, overly hot and sticky, determined to do a good job by staying close and still and _good_ and now he stinks.

“You’re lovely,” Bucky says. Steve feels good enough this morning, drowsy and content with his daddy, that he doesn’t argue, just lets the words wash over him. Maybe they’re true.

“You untied me.”

“I did. Behold, you are now a starfish,” he says, and Steve has to think about that for a minute, but yes, he is totally hogging the bed, limbs stretched in every direction.

Steve grunts.

“How did you like being tied up?”

“Liked being where you put me. Liked you deciding and it did help, but… I wanted to touch you more. If it’s something you like, then I’m okay with it.”

“Huh. Interesting. And how do you feel about spanking this morning?”

Steve grunts again. “You should give me coffee first.”

Bucky puts his phone down, he hears it settle on the nightstand, slips his hand into Steve’s hair, gently running his fingers through it a few times while Steve sighs happily.

“I’m trying to ask you questions at an unguarded moment.”

Steve hums in pleasure. “I think this counts as torture. Denial of my basic human rights for caffeine.”

Bucky makes a non-committal hmm sound in response, but doesn’t stop touching Steve, so he has no desire to go anywhere, even if it is for coffee. “Love you touching me.”

“I love touching you,” Bucky says, easily.

“When did you get up?” Steve asks.

“Few hours ago.” There’s something in his voice that makes Steve raise his head and look at him. He looks tired. Steve tries to get closer, shoving his face harder into Bucky’s leg and the mattress.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” he mumbles. Pretty sure he was the reason Bucky didn’t sleep well. Bucky keeps touching him which is good. It takes a bit for him to answer which is bad.

“For what, good boy?”

“The five steps back.” Bucky’s hand skates downwards eventually, to Steve’s ass, which is covered by the sheet.

“I know. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I want so desperately to do right by you, and be everything you need, get it all right and that’s not what’s happening.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely your fault,” Steve says, sarcastically. Bucky squeezes his ass in response. The appropriate response would have been a smack. Bucky is being very careful with him then. “Daddy,” he whispers, into the bedding and Bucky’s thigh.

“God, look at your ass. So perfect.”

Steve cracks an eye and looks up at him again. Bucky is staring at Steve’s ass, grips each cheek and lets go. “You want to spank it, don’t you?”

“I do. I want to spank it and fuck it. I want to put something inside you and _then_ spank you. I want to make your ass burn from spanking it so hard and then have you cry on my cock.”

Steve shifts a little on the bed, two inches closer, there’s wetness on his stomach now, from where he’s hard and getting wet at the idea of Bucky doing that to him. And yet. He knows how he fell apart last night.

Steve’s arm tightens around Bucky’s hips. “I want you to want me. That’s… I want that more than anything. But, it gets scary and I want to hide or something, too.” He takes a breath, can hardly get the words out, “In the kitchen, when you… I felt it. You had to have me. I came twice, so hard I think I sprained something in my balls,” he says, wanting it to be funny, but it’s a little too true to land right. Steve hurt at the end there, a deep throb from coming so intensely, orgasm after orgasm right on top of each other. “I have no idea if those were good orgasms. Maybe that was scary, too. The spanking was so hard, daddy. How you took me down was… it doesn’t even make any sense. I know what pleasure feels like, pain, coming. This was like I was dying and you were going to save me. I guess that was never part of the fantasy. It’s hard.”

“So good, Steve. Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, in the lull, touching him reassuringly. “Feelings and emotions always get heightened during a scene. It can be traumatic if it takes you by surprise. That’s not unusual. If that helps.”

He nods. Kisses him again, quick and chaste. “I thought maybe what you really liked was my misery. And, I couldn’t get it together. I felt so helpless and overwhelmed. I was… _nothing._ And I knew that I was naughty, if you were spanking me. I had to be. And, I didn’t look good,” he says, pressing deeper even thought there’s nowhere to go.

He hates that his own vanity is a part of it, but it is. “I know that’s dumb. But, I was someone no one ever looked at twice. If they did look at me, it was not… it wasn’t good. Now I’m perfect on the outside and it’s like that isn’t enough for you. You want me ugly.”

“You know you could never be ugly. Not physically or emotionally or anything. It’s impossible.”

Steve shrugs, shoulders lifting off the bed a little.

“How do I convince you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you think about it? If you can even be convinced?”

“Yes, daddy.” He wipes tears on the bedding. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, petting him. “Well, I think you’re right for a lot of that. I loved spanking you. I loved that you broke when I spanked your hole and just clung to me. You begged me to use you and it was… it was really beautiful _for me_. You just gave. There was no off. I took and you gave and it was like a frenzy. There’s top space, and then there’s whatever that was. The whole building could have burned down and I don’t now if I would have fucking noticed. But, the idea that you made me feel so good and you came out of it feeling ugly is… a problem.”

Steve shivers at the idea. Bucky wanting him to madness, to the point of obsession. Frantic. A frenzy. Anything is worth it for that. The emotional angst of the moment is worth it, if he knows that’s what he inspired in his daddy.

“I don’t think I really understood how good it was for you when it was happening. I see it now. And… it makes sense now. I don’t know if I’d feel ugly or bad if it happened again.” Which is as close to saying he wants it again, if it’s that good for Bucky, as he can get. 

“Sweetheart, when it was finished and I took you to the mirror, I couldn’t believe you’d ask to not have that again. It didn’t even seem possible. I’m concerned… well, no, I’m fucking terrified of it happening again. I know what kind of control you need me to have. I want to have that, too. I _should_. And, I’m not trying to make excuses, I’m trying to be honest with you about my own weaknesses where you’re concerned. In that moment, and even now, there’s part of me that believes fucking you that way was… good. That’s an understatement. Having you like that if my right, as your daddy. That’s how I really feel. I want to take you to that place again and I think we’ll find ourselves there over and over.”

“Stevie, I’m looking at your ass and I wonder what you’d do if I spanked your hole right now. I think I could convince you it was right. That you’d like it. And, that’s… it’s really fucked up and I’m aware of that.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that,” he says, clinging harder.

“How does it make you feel?”

“Terrified you’re going to end it so you don’t hurt me.”

Bucky is very quiet.

“You thought about it?” Steve finally asks.

“No. Well, yes. But, no. I tried to. I think you think I’m a better person than I am. I can’t let you go. So… I’m telling you that I’m afraid it’s going to happen, because I want it to, even though you don’t.” Bucky blows out a breath. “Even that’s insincere,” he says, softly. “It will happen again, Steve. I want you like that. I’d do it right now given half a chance. And you need to decide if it’s something you can reconcile yourself to or… or if you want to walk away.”

His hand gets harder on Steve, like he’s urging Steve not to flee, wanting to keep him there. “But, if there are ways to work around it, so you don’t get lost and I can make you feel safe, of course I want that. More than anything. I don’t want to hurt you and I know— fuck, what do I _know_? I _think_ I know that we can get through it and that you could love it. That we’d be in it together and it would make us both happy.”

“So what do you want me to say?”

Bucky laughs, miserably. “You need to say the truth.” His hand settles on the back of Steve’s neck, thumb rubbing back and forth, waiting for Steve to tell him he’s wrong or right.

He shakes his head minutely, knows Bucky can feel the movement. “All I could think was that I _loved you_. Not even in words, just like desperation. It was a frenzy, but it was terrifying, too. Can you want something and hate it at the same time?”

“I would want to build up to spanking you again. A lot of anal play. You on my lap, it’s only a good thing. It’s a reward and you get rewarded. I’ll… I’ll train you to like it. Slowly. As slow as you need, baby,” Bucky says, sounding desperate for a change. Trying to convince him. 

It feels like the truth is in front of him, but Steve can’t quite see it. This shouldn’t be something good, reassuring, but it is. Steve just isn’t sure why. Bucky wants this so badly from him. So much that he’s scared Steve will leave him over it. If Steve’s finding comfort in this, he might just be really, really fucked up.

“Bucky, the truth is that I can’t imagine what you’d need to do to make me walk away. And anything that horrible, you’re not capable of. At least, not with me,” he says, not quite sure why he adds that, but he does. “This isn’t a dealbreaker, daddy.” Is anything?

“Or, we don’t do it,” Bucky says, like he hasn’t heard him. Conceding more and more. “Or, maybe we come back to it? After we’ve had time to get more settled with each other.”

“That feels wrong, too. I trust you. You should… _train_ me. Daddy.” Steve shivers, goes tense all over. He’s so fucking wet now. Just from saying that word.

“Sometimes there isn’t a good answer. We can survive a compromise,” Bucky says, still not listening.

Steve breathes, slow and steady. “Bucky,” he says, lifting his head, turning a little so it’s easier to maintain compromise. “I don’t want out. This ending is more terrifying than anything else. That’s… that’s the problem. When you used me like that I needed you more than I have ever needed anything. I don’t think it’s that it was bad, it was too good. How do I go on if you show me that world and you take it away from me? It’s self-preservation. I don’t want you to stop or compromise. I _hate_ the idea of you backing down. I won’t walk away, daddy. I trust you. I _want_ to give you everything.” Bucky smiles a little sadly at him and Steve leans forward, kissing his leg, watching him the whole time. Look at this little act of devotion, Steve tries to say. I’ll give you everything. It’s a vow.

If Bucky wants it.

Bucky wants it.

Steve almost says _‘oh.’_ Bucky wants him desperately. Bucky can’t let him go, either. That’s what Steve wasn’t quite getting. Bucky wants him too much. He can’t help himself. All he can do is tell Steve and hope Steve saves himself. “I won’t rely on you to set my boundaries anymore. I’ll try not to.”

Bucky looks surprised by this.

“That’s what this is, right? You don’t trust yourself enough to not push if you think it would be good for us? And, apparently, you’ve got it bad for me, like obsessively bad, so I can’t rely on you to protect my interests. You’ll… take advantage of me.” As he says it, it all becomes clear. Bucky is just as stupidly obsessed with him as Steve is. It sinks in. Resonates. That is the truth.

Steve drops his head, presses his hard cock into the mattress, physically responding to the emotional revelation. Bucky’s hand goes to Steve’s ass, between his cheeks, presses harder, so much pressure against his cock. “Fuck, daddy. Daddy? Can I?”

“No. Don’t you dare.”

“Daddy, daddy, stop then.”

“No. Just don’t come.”

“Shit,” Steve growls, and shoves up, having to lifthis hips off the bed so he doesn’t come. He shudders at the denial. Feels tears slip down his face.

Bucky is right there. He looks at him, leans close, presses trembling lips to his daddy’s. “There’s a good boy,” Bucky says. “You got there. You worked it out, didn’t you?”

He nods. He is a good boy. “Your good boy,” he says.

Bucky kisses him deeply and Steve doesn’t object even though he hasn’t brushed his teeth. Even though he’s unclean. Bucky licks into his mouth and then kisses along his salty cheeks and down the column of his neck. He slips his hand into Steve’s armpit, strokes the skin, breathing him in. Bucky licks his fingers, sucks them into his mouth and kisses Steve again.

He doesn’t have any idea if there’s a taste of his own body odor, but he thinks it clings to Bucky’s lips or something, that it’s more that his imagination. “Do you understand?”

He can’t speak around the emotion churning inside him. He nods.

“Back down,” Bucky orders. Steve lowers himself, cock wet and weeping, but he shouldn’t come if Bucky doesn’t mess around with him. He presses his face back into the bed, tucks his nose and eyes into Bucky’s trousers and breathes shakily.

“Tell me what you understand.” 

“I understand that I feel good now. How you put me to bed last night, the way you punished me and overwhelmed me meant I woke up feeling… right. Like that was far away. It was hard but there was a payoff. The misery gets me somewhere. It gets me this. If last night hadn’t happened we wouldn’t be here, daddy. And this is a good place to be, because I understand you want the bad parts of me, too. That you’ll try to keep them safe. I understand you want me… vulnerable and maybe… maybe gross because I’m…” Yours. “You are mine.” There’s a difference.

Bucky’s hand is hard in his hair. He gets shaken back and forth until he moans. “You are mine, too. That’s right. And, I want my best to be good enough, baby,” Bucky says, voice rough. He lets Steve go. Steve risks a glance. His daddy’s eyes are wet. Steve moves closer.

“I just need you to convince me. Daddy. During. Don’t let me go until I know you like… what you made of me.”

“So beautiful. You have no idea how much you affect me.”

“I can ballpark it,” he says, smiling shakily at Bucky.

“I won’t ever spank you for being naughty. I’ll only spank you because it turns me on. It’s not your misery I get off on, though. It’s the trust. It’s this bizarre juxtaposition that you are one person to the world and you are the total opposite for me. And just me. When you cry and you beg me and I know that you need me… there is perfection in that.”

He nods. He understands. That’s true.

“I want anything that makes you feel like that, daddy. Because you make me feel like that, too. And I didn’t know I could. It’s just that after, can you make sure I know? That you’re happy with me? I think I forget, in the moment.”

“Yes. I can do that. I’m also not sure it was a great idea to leave you in bed while I made dinner. I don’t think that works for you. I think you drop and need me for longer. It’s part of the reason we didn’t have sex. I wanted time to be there for you. Last night, when you were staring at the box. You wanted to get fucked, right? Or to be full with your dildo?”

“Yeah. If you hadn’t been here, I would have used it. And the fact that you were here and you’re not… fucking me. That makes it difficult. I think.”

“I know. It’s gone on too long now. We skipped steps and it’s a problem.”

Steve lifts his head. “But, today is the day?”

“Yes. It has to be. I’m going to get performance issues soon.”

Steve laughs.

“That won’t help,” Bucky jokes.

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Steve says, and buries his face in his daddy’s lap, nuzzling his cock and balls through his pants. “Why are you dressed?”

“I think we should go to my place. I didn’t want to risk getting distracted from the mission.”

“The mission to fuck my ass?”

“I’m very good at completing my missions. Target acquired, parameters set, completion is imminent… but not too imminent. Hopefully.”

“I’m disturbed by the militaristic bent the goal has acquired, but want the job done, so you have my complete support. Anything I can do to help you accomplish this mission, I’m onboard. But, I hope it is completed imminently and with great speed. Because, I’m alway finishing imminently.”

“So fucking hot,” Bucky says, and squeezes Steve’s ass again. “Honestly. I love how fast you come for me.”

Steve grunts. The back of his neck is hot with embarrassment. He wiggles down into the bed and it may or may not turn into a bit of a grind. “I was hard all night,” he complains.

“A week ago, you didn’t want to get it up.”

“It was your personal touch.”

“Right. I think you should get up, have coffee and we should just go. Make the most of the weekend.”

“Wait. Really? Do I have to wait until tonight?”

“No. I’m thinking about having your ass for breakfast and fucking you before lunch.”

Steve sits up. “You better not by lying.”

“I’m not. This is stupid. I’m making you more insecure because it hasn’t happened yet. I know you. You need your daddy’s dick.”

Maybe that shouldn’t be romantic, but it kind of is. “I can be ready to leave in an hour.”

“That’s kind of a long time.”

“I want to shower, eat, enema and pack.”

“How about quick shower, coffee and a pastry, and we do the enema at my place? I’ll make you real food while you finish up in my bathroom and then fuck you?”

“Do you have a clean bathroom?” he asks, visions of some squalid bachelor pad coming to mind. Seems unlikely, but still.

“Do you actually care?”

“Maybe? If it’s really gross and you’ve never vacuumed, then maybe I should do it here.”

“It’s tidy and clean,” he says, sounding a little offended.

“You’re too perfect. I’m still trying to find the flaw. Filthy hoarder would count.”

“I am neither of those things. You’ll have to keep looking. Or just accept that you got lucky.”

“That would require changing my entire world view.”

“I know. Your worldview sucks. Speaking of which, Monday we should get you set up with a therapist.”

“Yes, daddy. And, yes let’s go to your place.” The idea of being in his daddy’s space, doing his preparations for him there, the uncertain element of it all, how submissive and at Bucky’s mercy he’ll feel is enough to have him getting the sheets wet. Monday morning he’s going to call. He wants to have an appointment with someone before Bucky can remind him.

“I”m up,” Steve says, and gets out of bed. He takes a shower as quick as he can and Bucky is standing there with a cup of coffee when he gets out. “Do you have any idea how much come and spit was on me?”

“Kind of. You sure look cleaned up now,” he says, giving him a thorough once over.

Steve blushes, has a sip of coffee and brushes his teeth. He has more coffee after and has to figure out what to wear. “Where’s my pastry?”

“Give me your keys and I’ll go get something while you pack.”

Bucky ogles him as he walks to the front door. He looks over his shoulder, can see Bucky staring at him. He gives Bucky his keys.

“Wait. _Promise me_. Pastry and straight toyour place. No distractions.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, slowly. Looking for the problem. “What? You think I’ll come back here and not have us go straight away?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I think I can restrain myself for _an hour_.” Bucky leans in to give him a kiss before walking out the door. He stops three inches from Steve’s mouth and pulls back. “You know what? I won’t even kiss you. I’ll only be gone ten minutes. Look how much restraint I have?” Bucky takes a step away. “Actually, wait. _One_ kiss, but I’ll keep my hands behind my back,” Bucky says, already leaning in. He shrugs his shoulders, clasps his hands behind his back. He’s a dork. Steve will probably die with a hard-on at this rate. He kisses Steve gently, lingers a moment.

Steve presses into him, lets his mouth open. He moans into it. Half because it feels right and half to be a tease, wanting a reaction. “Daddy,” he breathes, willing and lips slick as Bucky bites his bottom lip. Bucky steps closer to him.

“God,” Bucky says, hands tilting Steve’s head to where he wants it. “Should fuck your mouth,” he mutters.

“Hands,” Steve says, the word almost incoherent because Bucky was in the middle of shoving his tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Fuck!” Bucky snaps, and steps back. “You’re horrible. You can’t tempt me. That’s just setting me up for failure. I’ll be right back,” he says, scowling. “And _then_ we’re leaving. I won’t even come back inside. I’ll hover at the doorway.”

“I look forward to that,” Steve says, laughing and happy at how ridiculous Bucky is. Bucky leaves.

Right.

Time for the new clothes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments, particularly the understanding during my computer crisis. All is well. Nothing was lost. 
> 
> Thank you for the clothing suggestions! It's finally here! Sparkles red panties back in the comments are the ones I'm basing Steve's on in this chapter. And the velvet pants where Chris groped himself, because JFC. Also, this is the jackety thing I'm picturing him wearing at the beginning. Surely this is a better mental image than all the masks and whatnot we're dealing with in reality. 
> 
> https://www.us.allsaints.com/men/leather-jackets/allsaints-survey-lthr-blazer/

He’s packed —underwear, socks, change of clothes, enema kit, and a few other things— when Bucky comes back. Bucky is coming up the stairs, looking in the bag of pastries when he glances up and sees Steve in the door. He stops. Brows raise. There’s a look up and down. A scowl. “Are you fucking kidding me? This should be illegal. Let’s go back inside. I need… ten minutes.”

“Oh, well that’s tempting,” Steve jokingly grumbles. He rubs his hand up and down his thigh. He can’t help it. The pants feel so nice.

“You’ll get yours,” Bucky murmurs, gruffly. “What is this, velvet pants? Jesus Christ. Come on, you know you want to. It won’t take long. Turn around, let daddy see your ass.”

Steve laughs. He’s going to buy Nat coffee on Monday for sure. “No. We’re leaving. You promised.”

“Is this blazer leather? Come on, I’m halfway there already,” Bucky says, adjusting himself.

“No. You said you were Mr. Mission. Let’s go.”

“Then you shouldn’t have dressed like this… maybe at all. What is this? Rag and Bone? All Saints? What else is under there? Cashmere? It is, isn’t it?” Bucky says, trying to haul him closer and molesting him in the hallway. It’s exactly what he’d hoped for.

Steve closes the door firmly behind him. “You said you wouldn’t get distracted.”

“You’re a punk. You led me into temptation.” Bucky sweeps his arm out, letting Steve go first. Mainly to check out his ass. “Do you have anything under there?”

“You have to wait and find out.”

“God, you look good. Hold my hand. Make sure people understand you’re unavailable despite the DTF vibes.”

“That’s exactly what I said I wanted!” Steve says, pleased. Steve starts walking to the subway.

“Where the hell are you going? We’re getting an uber. I’m on a mission.” 

Steve pouts. “I like the subway. I was looking forward to standing next to you and torturing you.”

“I’m sure you were.” He looks at his phone. “Shit. Ten minutes.”

“We could be on the subway by then,” Steve says.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Bucky says, shoving his hand in Steve’s back pocket as they walk. “This is really velvet. Oh. Give me your bag. You eat your pastry.”

Steve holds his hand out for the pastry bag. He can multi-task.

“Oh no. Allow me,” Bucky says, reaching for it. He leans in for a kiss, pecking Steve on the jaw. “Look good, smell good. I bet you’re going to taste good, too.”

Steve almost drops the bag. Bucky squeezes his ass. “Which one is mine? There are three in here.” Steve asks, flustered.

“They’re all yours. I ate mine on the way. You’ll need your strength.”

Steve sighs. “Promises, promises.” He finishes the first one in a few bites and moves onto the second one. It’s weirdly empty outside. “What time is it?” Steve asks. He hasn’t even looked.

“8:15?”

“So, I should be de-virginated by what 11? 10? 8:50?”

Bucky glares at him. “In that outfit? It might be 8:50. What’s your preference?”

“I mean, I guess it depends upon how many times you can, you know.”

“Get it up?” Bucky clarifies. Steve finishes his pastry, licks his lips. “It’s not an insult or anything. I have a very fast recovery time is all.” Bucky is staring at the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You have… I’ll help you,” Bucky says, leaning forward to lick him or something.

“No. I’m protecting my virtue,” he says, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “The raspberry danish was good.”

“Your lips are so _pink_ now,” he says, kissing at Steve’s jaw. Bucky is definitely groping his ass.

“Shit. Um… maybe… we could go back to my place?” Steve says, giving in.

Bucky pulls away. “No. My bed. We’ve decided. I’m just glad we’ll both suffer along the way. Now then, important information. Tell me, how many times can you come in a day?” 

“What? Personal best? 10?” Sharon had been gone for three days. That second day had been intense. He’d spent the whole day jerking off or about to jerk off.

“How many of those was with a cock in you?”

“Three,” he says, quickly.

“You seem quite certain.”

“Yeah, I have a limit. I _had_ a limit.” Fuck that.

“Which was 3? Why?”

“After that, it just seemed… greedy. Like, I was _definitely_ a cockslut if I came more than three times with a dick in my ass.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky says, trying not to laugh. “How long did that take?”

Steve blushes.

“On average.” Bucky amends.

“Like… an hour?”

“You’d fuck yourself for an hour on that dildo Isaw and come three times?”

“Y-yeah? Yeah. Why? What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything _wrong _with that. I’m just… preparing myself. Mentally. I think I should have bought another pastry.”

“You can lay there. I’ll do the work if it comes to it.”

“Oh, that’s generous.”

“I’m a giver.”

They make it to the subway and onto the train. There are seats. They stand. “Put your hands on the rail,” Bucky orders quietly. Steve obeys. Bucky doesn’t bother to hold on, plants his feet and adjusts for the momentum. It’s oddly attractive. Everything Bucky does is attractive. Bucky reaches for the buttons of Steve’s jacket. Looks him in the eye, almost a question.

“Help yourself. I do have something on under here.”

Bucky unbuttons him slowly and Steve is glad they’re faced away from the people in the carriage, even if there are only three of them and they’re clearly doing their own thing. He can’t help but think everyone must know there’s some serious sexual tension between them.

“Cashmere,” he says, taking in the thin sweater Steve has on. It’s a gray V neck and it’s cut rather low.

“Yup.”

“God, let’s not get come on it. On any of this. You’ll want to strip as soon as you walk in the door.”

“Um, okay.”

“Actually, I’ll undress you.” 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Beautiful boy,” he says, staring at Steve’s mouth. Bucky leans into him, kissing him gently then sucking Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth. “You taste like sugar.” Steve lets his eyes close. Bucky’s fingers brush down his chest, stop at his waistband and pull away. “There you go. I can see how hard you are. You should always be hard for me, baby.”

“I think I’m doing a better job at that than I’m getting credit for.”

They get off the train and appear in a very prosperous neighborhood. “Two flower shops?” Steve asks. Nothing says disposable income like a flowers shop. Two!

“Crazy, right?”

Bucky has Steve’s hand, still has Steve’s bag and he leads him to a Brownstone. “This is where you live?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it… an apartment?”

“No. It’s mine.”

“Isn’t this… really expensive?”

“It wasn’t cheap,” he says. He unlocks the door and they go inside. He flicks on the lights. It’s a bit cold inside and Bucky goes straight to the thermostat, turning the temperature up while Steve looks around. Light gray walls, very white crown molding, dark wood floors. It’s very Restoration Hardware. He has a giant couch and bookshelves near the window. A couple of cashmere throw blankets are along the back of the couch.

It’s definitely a man’s apartment. It’s fairly minimalist considering how large the space is.

The kitchen has an island, a giant expanse of whitish granite with flecks of something gold in it. “Did you… remodel?”

“No. God no. I just bought it like this.”

“Do your parents have money?” Steve asks, looking around.

“Not really.”

“Bucky. How? The military doesn’t pay this well. And you were expensive, but you weren’t this expensive.”

“Certain parts of the military pay more than others,” he says, holding up his metal hand.

That’s it. He’s going to have Natasha look into Bucky’s past. He just has to.

Steve takes off his jacket.

“What are you doing? _I’m_ taking your clothes off. Come on. To the bedroom. Leave everything on but your shoes.”

Steve takes his shoes off and follows Bucky to the bedroom, going up a flight of stairs. His bed frame is a gray metal and modern, but it’s got some definite ‘I’m also used for bondage’ vibes. Steve raises a brow. There’s a furry bench at the foot of the bed and in one alcove is wood paneling with two stools placed a little oddly and a wooden trunk. There are bolt holes in the wall. Steve imagines all sorts of torture implements in the wooden trunk. It’s both exciting and nerve wracking. Steve is most definitely playing in the big leagues.

“Do you have a playroom?” he asks, already imagining being chained up in that corner of the room, tied to those boltholes or Bucky demanding he position himself on the stool for… reasons. Some serious ravishment could happen in this room.

“I have some things but they’re spread out throughout the house. Let me show you the bathroom,” he says, taking Steve’s hand.

Steve laughs. “You have a Japanese toilet?”

“It’s the future, Steve. Civilization is this toilet.” The shower is big enough for two and has a large rainfall shower head. “We’ll come back here to get you ready,” he says, squeezing Steve’s shoulders in a proprietary sort of way. Steve shivers. This is real. He knew this was going to happen. But, this is definitely Bucky’s space and Steve is here on his… invitation? Sufferance?

Yeah, sufferance. He’s here to please Bucky and this is the room where he’ll do his enema and get ready for his daddy to fuck him. Bucky leads Steve out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and to another room while Steve is trying to process the reality of the moment. He’s almost sick with excitement and nerves. He wants it so fucking badly. Wants him. Please don’t let anything screw this up. Should he turn off his phone? There’s an explanation - Sorry all those people died and you couldn’t get a hold of me, but I was getting reamed by my boyfriend.

He doesn’t turn his phone off. It’s fine. It’s going to happen. 

“So, this bedroom is basically for guests. It gets good light. You know, if someone wanted to paint or something,” Bucky says, unaware of Steve’s sudden terror that the universe is interested in his sexual frustration. Steve opens his mouth. Closes it again. He’s speechless. He really is.

“You’re not worried I’ll say yes and show up with my stuff?” Steve asks, leaning into him. Bucky puts his arms around him, holding him close.

“I mean, I guess the sensible thing would be to wait until Monday and see how you feel.”

“Monday is sensible?”

“For us? Monday is sensible. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you comfortable.”

He leads Steve back into the bedroom, stands him near the bed and takes off the jacket. Bucky pulls on the cuffs of Steve’s jacket, the leather sleeves tight on Steve’s arms. His muscles bulge in the sweater and Bucky looks at him, runs his hands all over him. He squeezes Steve’s biceps and cups his pecs, thumbs brushing over Steve’s nipples until they’re pebbled hard through the material. It’s torture.

“Bucky,” he pleads.

“Stay there. Wait. I’m enjoying myself.” He shoves his hands under the sweater, touching Steve’s skin and Steve closes his eyes, finally gives up and leans closer, needing to be pressed against him.

“I need you so much. Please don’t make me wait.”

Bucky gives him a look. “We’re not waiting. It’s happening.” He strips the sweater off of Steve, puts it on the bed. “Lovely.”

Steve takes off his socks. Bucky gives him a look. “It looks ridiculous to wear socks and no pants,” Steve argues.

“Yeah, I’m sure you look terrible,” Bucky jokes. He unbuttons Steve’s pants, fingers brushing over the material. “I’m just about positive that come on velvet is a very bad idea,” he says, brushing his fingers over Steve’s cock. Steve swallows, hard and getting wet. “Daddy it might show in a minute.”

“Of course it will. You’re my good boy. You know how hard it makes me to see you all messy.” Bucky gets them off of him, a fair amount of groping occurring in the process. Bucky whistles at the sight of him in his jock strap. His fingers slide over Steve’s ass, slip under the straps and snap them. Steve makes a sound.

“God, look at you. Is this _all_ for me, baby?” Bucky asks, running his hands all over him and then his flesh hand settles over Steve’s cock.

“Yes, daddy. Everything is,” he says, voice unsteady.

Bucky grins at him, wolfish. “Come here, good boy,” he says, pulls him to the bed and sits down. It’s raised fairly high. Bucky doesn’t even have to bend his head, sucks Steve’s nipple into his mouth and doesn’t stop until it’s swollen and throbbing.

He moves to the other one, hands busy on Steve’s cheeks, squeezing them and pressing them together, then pulling them apart. Steve’s halfway to subspace already, head hanging, eyes closed and mouth open while his daddy plays with him. Bucky is still dressed and that adds to his embarrassment, reinforces the idea that he’s not the same as Bucky. Bucky gets to be dressed. Steve gets to be played with.

“There’s my good boy,” Bucky says, fingers brushing him through his underwear again. “You’re so wet. We need to get you coming, don’t we?”

“Whatever you want. Just fuck me. Don’t make me beg. Please? Can I… could I say red to that?” he asks, blushing. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, but all he wants is to be overwhelmed and to not make a single fucking decision the whole time he’s here. He wants to lose himself in Bucky.

Bucky stands up, stays pressed against him. “You can say red for anything you want to, sweetheart. I love that you said it. Feel how hard you’ve made me,” he orders.

Steve shakes his head, knows his daddy is trying to make a point of the whole thing, but he touches him anyway, has to. Steve clenches, feeling empty, especially when what he wants is right there. Bucky so big and hard in his jeans.

“I won’t make you beg, sweetheart. Begging is a no go. That’s fair. I’m proud of you. You’ve begged enough. Asked me so sweetly. You don’t have to ask anymore. I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to fuck you as soon as you’re ready for me. And I’m going to keep fucking you until you need me to stop.”

“I hope so.”

“Shh, I can get you there. Promise, babydoll. How about begging me to _stop_? You want to beg me to stop?” he asks, pinching at Steve’s nipples. Steve’s leaking steadily, balls heavy in anticipation.

Steve’s breathing hitches. “Yeah. Please. So much. And… say no? Daddy, can I say no?” He asks, struggling to stay coherent. How come Bucky never has a problem getting words out? He’s just a constant stream of dirty talk and orders. But, all he has to do is touch Steve and Steve’s IQ drops significantly.

Bucky chuckles, grabs him between the cheeks, pulling hard and exposing his hole. “If you want to. As long as I know that’s what we’re doing. And now that I know you’ll say red if you need to.”

“I will, because….”

Bucky waits. “I don’t think I need red for the physical stuff. It’s, emotionally, it’s a lot. Exhausting and difficult.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m proud of you. I’m happy you said it. Come on, let’s get you clean for daddy.”

Bucky stands up and Steve grabs him, wraps his arms around him. “Make me yours.” Ugh. It sounds lame saying it like that, but he’s too emotional to even try to say more. He doesn’t do any of this for himself. It’s for his daddy. His place and identity in the world should be framed through his daddy. Other people frame him as a man out of time or as Captain America, but Steve gets to choose, too. Is it normal to want one’s identity to be tied to someone else? Isn’t that why people get married? He’d choose to love, honor and obey. To go forward with someone. He kisses Bucky’s neck, shoves his hands under Bucky’s shirt, touching his sides and his back.

“I will. You are mine. Fuck, Steve. You are, as much as you want it.” Steve bites his lip. He can’t start crying already.

“Daddy,” he pleads.

“I know. Come on. My little virgin, let’s get you into daddy’s bed and filled up with come.”

Steve whimpers, nods into his skin. “Yes, please, please. Yes.”

“Shh. You’ll have it. It’s happening. Get your things. I’m getting impatient,” Bucky says, sternly. Which. Good. Steve needs more of that.

Steve brings his enema kit with him into the bathroom. Bucky turns on the tap to get warm water and lays down a giant white towel. The floor is warm.

“Heated floors?”

“And all this could be yours,” Bucky says, winking.

“You’re tempting me.”

“Good. I mean it. I want you here. You belong with me, baby. As ridiculous as it sounds.”

Steve gets naked and lays down, the jockstrap so small and now even that is gone. He’s bare. Nothing to cover him or protect him. He closes his eyes while Bucky fiddles with the bag and the kit. He belongs with Bucky, he thinks, over and over again. Wanting to remember the way Bucky said it, have it burn brighter than all the shit memories that never want to leave him alone.

“Wanna do it twice, just to make sure I’m clean for you, daddy.”

“You do it because you want to.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Twice it is. Easy now.” Bucky gets lube on his fingers, parts Steve’s cheek. “Pretty hole. If it knew what was about to happen….”

“We communicate regularly. The hole is onboard. _Oh_. Daddy,” he gasps, as the water begins to fill him. He sighs loudly, relaxing into the towel.

“You take that like a dream. You should see how right you look,” he says, brushing the backs of his fingers down Steve’s cheek. “Content. You’re a little hard, too.”

“It goes down once the cramping starts.” His stomach flip flops, the need to defend himself, to try to not like this as much as he does is still there. That denial has gotten him nowhere but a miserable box and a shitty relationship. He doesn’t want to end the conversation on the idea that his erection goes down and that’s a good thing. That it’s just a biological response or something to be ignored.

He clears his throat. “I… um, I love this. It’s a fantasy of mine. Every morning. You here, expecting this of me. Approving. I love it and I… _want_ to be hard. To encourage that.”

He gets a kiss for the confession. “Thank you. Not just for telling me, but wanting to give that to me. I’m happy to expect this of you. Every day. You start here. Warm on daddy’s floor and I’ll watch over you, make sure you’re safe.”

His eyes are closed because it’s just too good and big of a moment to look at directly. “Yes, please.”

“Can daddy play with you while you get full?”

“Yes, please.” Bucky touches Steve’s cock, fingers stroking him, touching his balls and the head, which is too much. “Don’t want to come. It’s a lot, daddy.” 

“Oh, sweetheart. Pretty baby. How about these pretty tits then?”

He cups each one in his hand, pressing on the flesh and then pulling and rubbing his thumb over Steve’s nipples. Steve drifts, cock hard and really full inside, happy to make little sounds for his daddy as Bucky fondles him.

“That’s it. You took it all. Let’s get the nozzle out. You’re such a good boy, Steve.” Bucky withdraws it, puts the kit in the sink and sits with Steve, gently touching his balls and then his chest again, staying clear of Steve’s cock.

“There you go. You’re wet, sweetheart. That’s what daddy likes to see for you. It’s so good that you enjoy your morning chore. That makes me happy. Good things for you, yeah?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers, kissing Bucky’s hand. His morning chore. That’s… yes. That’s exactly what it is. It’s not sordid or sick. It’s just part of his routine, but something he has to do because it’s for daddy.

A cramp moves through him and he whimpers. “Daddy?”

“Shh, relax. Let me. Move your hand,” he orders and rubs Steve’s stomach gently, helping him through it. “That’s lovely. And you’re still hard, baby. I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” Steve asks, blinking, eyes already filling with tears.

“Yes. You’re beautiful. Perfect. This suits you, baby. Where you belong. Getting ready for me.”

Steve wipes his eyes. “Fuck. I need my watch. I have to time it now.”

Bucky hands him his watch, Steve flicks a glance at him. “You should… you can go.”

“I’ll make some food, okay? I’ll leave your clothing on the bed. Come out when you’re ready. Don’t get yourself slick and don’t touch your hole beyond cleaning.”

“Daddy. Okay. Please go now.”

Bucky goes, taking the jock strap with him.

Steve barely manages the count, groaning as he gets to the toilet. He refills the bag when he’s done, fills himself up again. The cramps come sooner and he tucks his head into his arm, closes his eyes. He’s got several minutes left. He breathes through it. His morning chore. For his daddy, he thinks and touches his chest, wanting to be harder.

“How’s my babydoll?” Bucky asks, back in the doorway, staring down at Steve.

“Not done yet.”

Bucky lowers himself down, kisses Steve on the cheek. “This is so good, baby. I can’t wait to fuck your pretty little hole. So clean. What’s daddy’s come going to do it?”

“Daddy,” Steve whispers, blindly reaching for him.

“Tell daddy. Is my come going to dirty you up?”

“No.”

“Why not, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, but he sounds like he knows the answer already. And he’s happy about it.

“Because it’s yours and you’re giving it to me. It’s a gift,” he says, and risks a glance at Bucky’s face. Bucky is staring down at him like he’s precious.

“That’s right. Daddy is going to fuck you so good, baby. That’s exactly right. My come is a gift. A sign of how much I want you and care for you. It’s just for you. A part of daddy. You’re reward.”

“I want to be done now, daddy.” He needs to get fucked. Bucky’s cock spilling inside him, giving him that warmth and contentment. That’s his goal. His prize.

“How much longer?” Bucky asks.

Steve checks. “Two minutes?”

“Okay. Two minutes and then you take a shower and come find me. Do you understand? Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited too long already to fuck you like I need to. I don’t think I’ve got a lot of patience, I’m just too hard, baby.”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll be there as soon as I can. God, _go _daddy.” The cramps are painful now, he needs to get the water out. He’s still hard, and Bucky is saying everything he wants to hear. Steve doesn’t have to beg. He’s going to get it. It’s such a relief.

Bucky leaves him to finish up. When he’s done, Steve showers, cleans his hole but doesn’t linger, still so hard at what’s to come.

He combs his hair, a shock of it falling into his eyes. He shoves it out of the way and goes to the bedroom. His clothes are gone. Put somewhere by Bucky. There’s a small scrap of white on the bed.

That’s not… that can’t be for him, can it? There are panties on the bed. White silk panties with a bow at the back. There’s an odd gap under the waistband, almost a cut out at the top of his cheeks. It means more of his ass is exposed, an invitation for Bucky’s fingers to touch him and dip down to his hole.

He puts them on and looks in the mirror. Okay, well it does look good. Although his cock is too big and he has to do some careful adjusting to get it covered up. Steve turns, a little shocked at the sight of his ass in them. It’s… it’s a lot. What does this make him? What does it mean that Bucky bought these for him? So pure and soft and focused on making his ass look like a gift for his daddy.

The jock strap was good but this… this is his virginity.

He feels it, viscerally. Oh god, is he teary-eyed again? Maybe he’s hormonally imbalanced or something. Good tears, bad tears. He hasn’t cried since his ma passed. Not during the war, not when he woke up or visited Peggy. And then he gets near Bucky and the emotion just pours out of him.

Perfect is a feeling Bucky said. This is it. This moment of quiet expectation where he’s ready for his daddy and he knows he’s about to give him everything he wants.

He goes out to the living room and kitchen. It’s warm and the fire is on. “Come here, princess,” Bucky says, and Steve blushes. His balls are so heavy and full now, the fabric wet. Bucky is cooking bacon and there’s scrambled eggs in a bowl ready to go in next. Next to a cutting board is a bowl of cut up fruit.

Bucky feeds him a piece of pineapple and watches him chew and swallow. As if it’s worth taking in. “Daddy,” he whispers, pleased and embarrassed. Bucky kisses him on the forehead.

“We’re here. You’re mine now,” Bucky says, almost reverent. He pulls back and sighs, picks up two padded ankle cuffs from behind him and drops down to the ground, putting them on Steve. Bucky looks up his body, his face is close to Steve’s cock. Bucky doesn’t break eye contact as he leans closer.

“How dangerous is it? Can daddy give you a kiss or will you come?”

“I… won’t,” he says, feeling pretty confident. “Little kiss.”

Bucky smiles at him. “Little kiss.” He presses his face into Steve’s underwear, kisses him at the base of his shaft, takes in a deep breath of Steve’s clean skin through the panties. Steve’s cock leaks heavily.

“_Daddy_,” he says, warningly.

Bucky tilts his head back so he can see Steve, but the heat of his skin, the pressure is still there, Bucky’s jaw against his balls. “Don’t you come. This is just a little kiss for my good boy. Looking so sexy in these panties. I knew it. I saw them and I had to have them for our first time.”

He presses another kiss to Steve’s cock, lingering and firm. Steve breathes through it. It’s just been so long. He went to bed hard last night. He didn’t come this morning. Bucky has been teasing him and then there was the enema.

Bucky stops touching his cock. Steve sighs in relief as Bucky gets to his feet. “Good boy.”

He puts wrist cuffs on him next. Black, padded leather, soft wool on the inside. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” he says, hoarse with sincerity. _I belong to you. _He wants to say it, but it’s everything. He thinks it, though. Holds it to himself. Lets the idea warm him. His daddy has him.

“I bet. Looks perfect on you. Neck now,” he says.

Steve reaches for Bucky, holding onto his waist, staring at the black leather on his wrist. “Is this mine?”

“This is yours, good boy. These are your things. Just yours. Bought only for you.” He puts the collar around Steve’s neck. He buckles it.

“Oh,” he gasps, at the feel of it. He swallows, rolls his neck to feel it from all angles. “Oh, daddy. It’s so good.”

“Yeah? God, you sound so sweet. You fucking need it, baby? You wet?” he asks.

“I’ll come. If you touch me at all, I’ll come.” He hauls in rough breaths, clings to Bucky. Bucky hasn’t even tried to secure the buckle yet, waiting for Steve to relax. It takes forever.

Bucky kisses him gently on the lips. “So pretty. It’s ridiculous. I have all these reasons we’ve waited and they were all about you, but maybe it was for me, too. I want to give you what you deserve. Have this experience be perfect for both of us. I don’t think I’d realized,” Bucky says, almost embarrassed. It’s a nice change.

“Thank you, daddy,” he says.

Bucky blushes more. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“You like hearing it and I like saying it. It’s a perfect alignment of interests.”

Bucky buckles it. It’s a bit loose. Bucky slips a finger under it. “Do you want to try tighter?”

“God, I don’t know. It’s so much, daddy. It is perfect. I just… I love it so much.” He’s hot inside with happiness, boiling with it, like it should explode out of him in painful, pure light. It’s overwhelming.

“Okay. Let’s leave it, babydoll. You look so pretty. I’m going to get your food, okay? Go sit in front of the fire. Ass on your heels, hands on your thighs, head bowed, eyes closed. _Wait_.”

“Daddy. Can I suck you first?” he begs, hand on Bucky’s hard cock, touching him through his jeans.

“No. I’m saving my cock for your ass. Go on. Give me something pretty to look at while I cook.”

That’s him. He’s the pretty thing Bucky will look at. He is Bucky’s perfect thing. Steve goes to the rug by the fire. Sinks down, sits as instructed. Closes his eyes. His back gets warm. He can hear Bucky in the kitchen. This is another perfect moment.This is exactly where he’s supposed to be and who he’s supposed to be with. He welcomes the tears, feels them sliding down his cheeks and doesn’t make any effort to stop them. This is one of the happiest moments of his life.

It occurs to him at some point that the kitchen is quiet. That his tears have stopped and that Bucky is in front of him. He just knows. “Open your eyes. Look at your daddy.”

He blinks. His eyes need a minute to get used to the light. He wasn’t asleep. But, he wasn’t here. He feels so good. “I’ll help you,” Bucky says, and reaches down for him. Steve gets to his feet, sways and offers his mouth. Bucky kisses him, his hand slides back, stroking his thumb between his cheeks.

“You empty, sweetheart? Or do you want breakfast? I made you breakfast, but I think I’d like to fuck you. Can you wait? Eat in a little bit so daddy can come in you?”

“Always,” he says, and his voice is a rasp.

“That’s so sweet. So good. Come on, baby. Bedroom.” He puts his hand on Steve’s lower back, then lower, guiding him to the bedroom like he’s scared Steve might change his mind. “Help daddy out of his clothes,” Bucky orders, and Steve strips him, quiet and careful, precise as he undoes the buttons. Bucky is watching him. Bucky touches Steve’s lips with a finger and drops his hand. He brushes Steve’s hair back with his metal hand and Steve has to force his eyes to stay open.

“I can’t stop touching you. I don’t know why I’m trying. I need to be inside you, baby. What am I supposed to do when you make me want you so much?”

“You shouldn’t wait, daddy.”

“I shouldn’t, should I? You wouldn’t make me wait, would you?” He asks, but there’s almost a dare there, like Steve could try to say no and see what happens. Steve licks his lips, touches Bucky’s chest with careful hands.

“No, daddy. Not… not ever.”

“Poor you. Having to give up breakfast so daddy can fuck you. How selfish,” he says, touching Steve roughly, pinching his nipples again and again.

“I like you selfish. I swear I do. You can spank me, daddy.” How else can he let Bucky know that he’s ready to give him everything?

Bucky chuckles, kisses Steve’s jaw. “That’s so sweet, baby. I’ll spend a lot of time on your bottom later. Kissing you there and playing with you, but we won’t go beyond that.”

“But, I can do it. I want to prove to you—”

“_No_. Just obey me now. I know what I want.”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, kissing Bucky’s neck, trying to let it go. He just wants be to good, wants to give himself completely and trust every decision Bucky will make for him. For them. He’s where he belongs. His daddy should be in a frenzy for him and Steve doesn’t care what it takes to get that reaction. It’s worth it.

“And, what I want, is for you to make a choice for me.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t want to choose anything. Whatever you want.”

“You won’t get very many options this weekend. Appreciate it,” he says, firmly. He takes Steve by the jaw, metal fingers a little cool and so damned hard on his skin.

“I’m going to kiss your hole. I’m going to eat you right up, sweetheart. Here is your choice. Do you want me to fuck you first and kiss it better after, or lick you open?”

Steve freezes. He doesn’t understand. “You said you wouldn’t take me with spit.”

“I won’t,” Bucky says, slowly. Steve isn’t sure he answered the question correctly. “I’ll fuck you open on my cock if you want me to.”

“Oh god, I didn’t bring a lube shooter,” Steve says, horrified. 

“Shh. That’s taken care of. Do you want to give yourself to daddy that way? I’ll go slow and easy on you. It won’t be fast. Get you opened up like a good girl.”

He nods, afraid to say how much he wants it that way. “Yes, please.”

“Do you want to be my good girl for this? Daddy’s little virgin? The first time isn’t easy, baby.”

He looks at Bucky imploringly. “Yes. So much, daddy.”

“That’s the lot of a good boy, Stevie. Sometimes you have to take it like daddy wants to give it to you. It’s your first time and daddy is going to take you like a girl, so you’re my girl this time. On your back, spread those legs for daddy,” he orders, undoing his pants. He gets naked. He’s big and hard and Steve reaches for him. Bucky picks up lube and a lube shooter off the nightstand. Steve hadn’t even noticed it was there, he’s so damn out of it. “Panties off.”

Desire makes him speechless. He lifts his hips, gets the panties off, clutches them in his hand.

He gets a dab of slick on his hole, a little rub, and Bucky leaning over him. Bucky bends down, kisses his thigh, rubs gently at Steve’s hole. “Pretty. So fucking pretty. And tight, too. I know you’re going to feel so good. You want me to lose my mind, don’t you?”

Bucky makes that shush sound and presses the lube shooter inside Steve, filling him with cool lube. Steve’s legs fall open in invitation. Bucky takes it out, tosses it to the nightstand, strokes Steve’s leg.

“There you go. That’s all you need, isn’t it? I think you can take it. I think you’ll be just fine, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I will. And you’ll… see my face. So, you’ll know.”

“That’s right, I’ll see your face. I’ll watch you take my cock and make sure you get it all.”

“Thank you, daddy,” he says, overwhelmed with how perfect it all is. How small he somehow feels in his daddy’s bed, how helpless. “Thank you for making it a big deal. Being a… virgin. I’m glad I am. That you get this, daddy.”

“Me too, sweetheart. I want to make it good for you.”Bucky reaches back to the nightstand, picks up a cock ring and puts it on.

Steve raises a brow.

Bucky grins. “I’m taking no chances.”

“Cause you’re on a mission?”

“Exactly. Breed up my good girl.”

“Jesus, that’s so….” He reaches for Bucky, pulling him towards him. The cuffs are visible in front of him, shockingly dark and a reminder that he’s claimed. “Are you going to cuff me to something?”

“Don’t worry. You don’t need to think about that just yet. You’ll get them at the end.”

Which, of course, means he’s just going to be thinking of them. “You’re downright Machiavellian.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m…. yeah.”

“That’s high praise from one of the great strategists of the Second World War.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

Bucky touches his legs, keeps looking at Steve’s hole. The look Bucky gives him is almost a pout, but not quite. It’s not an expression Steve thinks he’s seen on Bucky before. Steve’s hips move, trying to get any sensation on his weeping cock head, even if it’s just his own skin. Bucky feels dangerous. Steve doesn’t know why, but he’s waiting for Bucky to pull the rug out from under him, again. He can sense it, that something is about to happen, this is part of a plan or something. 

“You don’t need that strategy now,” Bucky says. It’s confirmation. Steve fists his hands into the bedding, doesn’t dare look away from his daddy’s face. His eyes are gray, maybe cold. “It wouldn’t help you, either. Not today. Or tonight. Or even tomorrow. You’re mine. I’ll decide. I’ll make all the plans for you. Fuck you when and how I want to. Selfish. And when you think you’re all done, when you don’t want anymore and you’re tired and sore, if daddy needs you one more time, you’ll get the cuffs. Make it easy on yourself,” he says, like it’s nice. “That’s how much your daddy cares for you,” he says, grabbing Steve’s legs and shoving them open, exposing him.

“I want to come, daddy. Please. _Please_, I’m so hard.” It’s the most fucked up and perfect thing he’s ever heard. It better be true.

“I can see. Look at that mess on your stomach,” he says, and bends down, licks it up, keeping it for himself as he swallows and gets a few pillows under Steve so his hips are raised. “Put your legs around my waist, babydoll,” he orders, and he kisses Steve, body far away. Steve groans at the denial, he just needs a single touch on his cock and he’ll come. He’s so turned on that he’s shaking.

“Touch me. Please, daddy.”

“If I do, you’ll come. You’re going to come on my cock. I’m sorry you’re not warmed up more. I know you want kisses and attention, but daddy’s got to get inside you now. You’ll be okay. Just lay there. Be sweet. Let me in. Can you let me get mine?”

Steve puts his arm over his face, even bites his own flesh, but it’s no use. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispers. All Bucky’s words rattling around in his head. He’s daddy’s hole. He’s going to be bred up. He’s a good girl. He’s just going to have to take what he’s given. His daddy needs him.

“Go ahead, greedy boy. I see how you are.” Bucky gets the head of his cock against Steve’s hole, lined up, just a touch and Steve comes. He grabs himself, jerking himself through it, hole pulsing and fluttering against the head of Bucky’s cock.

“Fuck. God, I can feel that. Easy now. Nice and slow,” Bucky says, and presses carefully. Steve pulls him down for a kiss, tilts his hips more, pushes out so the head can begin to slip into him. It’s slow and dry. Bucky pulls back, looks at Steve’s hole, spits on him.

“There you go.” He covers Steve, finally letting all his weight land and their skin touch, kisses him roughly, wetly, hips pressing forward. Steve’s cock, sensitive gets rubbed between them. He bites back a sound. Steve gets pressed back into the bed, the pressure on his hole is building as Bucky forces his way inside. Intense. It’s just so oppressive. “Daddy, daddy,” he gasps. It turns into a sob. He’s breaking down already. 

“Shh. Let me. You can do it,” Bucky growls and bites at his neck. He pushes gently and then he’ll press hard, a threat and reminder that Steve is powerless to stop him, that Bucky will decide if Steve gets it gentle or not. 

Steve nods, wanting to obey. “I’ll take it,” he promises, reaching up to kiss Bucky. His neck throbs and Steve rolls his head on the bed, the collar brushing the bite marks and he almost comes again. He has to watch, wants to see the moment his daddy forces his way inside. Bucky’s eyes are closed, brow furrowed. Then he opens them, blue, pupils blown wide in lust. “God, I want to fuck you so _hard_.”

“Do it.”

“Stevie,” he says. An admonishment. His cock is so hard and big. Bigger than his dildo and what he’s used to.

“You promised I wouldn’t have to beg.” 

“Shh, hush. You’ll get it.” Bucky groans, kisses Steve so hard there’s blood and his lip stings. “Daddy,” he says, kissing Bucky’s jaw.

“I know. You need it, baby. I need it, too. You just let me now. Go on. Open up. Here it is,” he says, kissing the words into Steve’s mouth. Bucky thrusts, gentle but steady. Steve’s opening. He can feel it, forced at the relentlessness of it all. He’s too dry. He tilts up, hoping it will help. Each thrust is a painful shock he whimpers into his daddy’s mouth. And then the head is in. In and wet, lube everywhere.

Bucky moans. It feels like a miracle. His hole burns from the entry. The relief of Bucky being in, pausing for just a moment, is dizzying.

“Perfect,” Steve whispers, struggling to not just drift away. He shakes his head, wanting to stay, trying to wake up or something.

“What’s wrong?”

“Drifting.”

Bucky chuckles. “There’s my little masochist. You want to stay with daddy?”

“Yes, please.”

“This is to keep you with me. You’re not naughty,” he whispers, and Bucky slaps him gently across the face.

“Oh!” He clenches on Bucky’s cock, winds up squirming at the discomfort that causes, which causes even more discomfort. “Daddy,” he begs, as if Bucky could actually help him. As if he isn’t the instrument of it all.

“Shh, better?”

He presses up to kiss him, hard and needy. “Yes, thank you.” His eyes are filling with tears but it’s good and sweet. Bucky keeps kissing him. “That was to keep you here. I need you. Don’t leave daddy.”

Steve nods. “I know. Thank you.” He takes a shaky breath. Bucky’s cheeks are flushed, his lips are swollen from kissing and his heart is pounding under Steve’s hand. “I’m with you,” he whispers.

“Good. That’s my baby. My wet girl. I knew you were there somewhere. Just had to hurt you a little and that got you all soaked, didn’t it?”

Bucky pulls out and Steve whimpers. Bucky puts the head back, slick now, presses his way back in, while Steve arches his back, all of it so intense. His cheek tingles. He wants that again. Why is that different? Because it was for him, so he didn’t drift away from his daddy?

Now that he’s slick, there’s no keeping Bucky out and Bucky’s cock opens him again, a glide that cores into him, stretching and stinging, it’s so damned much. “Does it feel good, daddy?”

“Amazing. Perfect. So fucking tight. You’re trying to make me come, aren’t you?” Bucky kisses him, continues to work into him, pausing when Steve shakes and ripples all around him. “Go on, my good slut. Come for daddy.”

“Daddy. Sorry. I just—”

“I know. Sluts do what sluts do,” Bucky says, and he shifts so he can get a hand around Steve’s cock. Three pumps and he comes, hard. Bucky holds him and squeezes Steve’s cock gently, fucks deeper, taking advantage of the moment to claim space inside Steve’s body.

“That’s right. Just lay there and I’ll fuck you open. I’m almost in, good boy. Feel. Get your hand down there so you can feel how much you have to take still. It’s hard, isn’t it?” he asks, kissing Steve’s bottom lip, which is sticking out, he realizes. He’s pouting, uncomfortable and enduring. It’s so difficult. It burns so good. It makes him feel bright and purposeful. “I’m being so good.”

“That’s right. That’s right you are,” Bucky says, grinning at him. He kisses Steve on the forehead and on the nose, on his eyes, the touch of his tongue as he tastes Steve’s tears. “Feel. Go on,” he orders, darkly. 

Steve’s touch is clumsy, body singing with endorphins. He stings at his entrance. Focusing his attention exacerbates everything. The fullness and the weight, the heat and how much it hurts this way. Like he really is a virgin. Some poor bride on her wedding night with an oafish husband who just wants to breed up his girl and get off.

He throbs, can feel it in his stomach and his balls, almost in his thighs. It’s so much. So good and so big. Thank god Bucky is almost all the way in he thinks. And then he feels. Bucky is watching him closely. Wants to see the moment Steve realizes. “Daddy. Daddy, you said you were almost all the way in.”

“I am. Half I think,” he says, kissing the gasp off Steve’s lips.

Steve whimpers and clings to Bucky, holds onto him while Bucky shushes him, repositions to get the rest of his giant cock into Steve.

“Daddy,” he whispers, crying a little.

“Yeah? How are you? Beautiful girl. My sweet boy. Mine. You feel like you’re mine now, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Tell me you love it.”

“I do. I don’t ever want you to stop. Hurts, daddy.”

“I know. I know, babydoll.” His hand is in Steve’s hair, keeping him still, the other hand on his ass, keeping him where he wants as he slowly fucks into him. “Daddy, it’s too much,” he gasps, arching, when Bucky starts up a rhythm again.

“Poor baby. Poor little sweetheart. You can do it.”

“I can’t. You told me it was in.”

“No, I said it was close. Your little hole is so red. You know it’s red? Remind daddy you know it’s _red_.”

“I know. I remember,” he looks into Bucky’s eyes. Sees the concern. That his daddy wants a reminder that this is how Steve wants it. With the tears and the pain and the promise that it isn’t going to stop because Bucky needs it from him. “This is perfect, daddy. You’re making me perfect. You know it. I would say red if I had to, daddy. I’d give you that.”

“Good. That’s my good boy. Thank you. That’s right, you’d give me that, too. It’s all mine, sweetheart. Every good and bad thing about you belongs to me now.” He kisses Steve again, Steve catching his breath, body settling into the invasion a little. He’s ready for more. The wet between them is copious, Steve’s cock sliding between their stomachs. He’ll come again soon.

“Daddy, daddy. I don’t think I can do it. It’s too big. Too much. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so much.”

“I know, babydoll. You’re going to love it in a minute. I know you are, because you’re my little slut when daddy needs you to be. You feel so good. There’s no stopping now.”

“No. Don’t stop,” Steve begs, tears in his eyes.

“Hush. Easy. I won’t. I’m telling you I won’t,” he says, earnestly. “You’ll take it all.”

He nods, relieved. “You’ll make me, won’t you?”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Do you like it?”

He nods, need a minute to speak around all the emotion and get the breath he needs to way all the words he wants to. “It’s everything, daddy. God, it’s so good. I love it. Love it, love—” Bucky kisses him, steals his cries and fucks him harder, finally gets all the way inside him with a low groan. He grinds deep and starts to ride Steve in little movements. It’s different than his dildo. The heat and weight inside him. His helplessness. He’d thought he was helpless before, in his closet, because he was on his hands and knees. He’d thought he was taking it before, but this, this is real. All he can do is give. Is that the difference?

“So good, baby. So sweet. Feel perfect inside. Do I feel good inside you?”

He sobs, so hard and intense that Bucky is forced out of him. Bucky laughs. Steve is mortified. “God. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I was distracted by how perfect you are. I got careless,” he says, sounding fond. He presses back into Steve, deep and not stopping until there’s nowhere else to go. Steve ripples around him, his body confused and conflicted: It’s bad. This isn’t right. It’s good. He should always have this and give this. “I’ll make it up to you. Come for daddy. Can you do that for me?” He demands, jerking Steve off again.

Bucky doesn’t move while he jerks him off, remains this full, throbbing presence inside him. Steve clenches and whines at the intensity of it, working around the intrusion and with it. “Good boy. Do that again. You’ve got a cock in you, milk it, baby.”

“Fuck. Daddy. Come?”

“Yeah. Go on now.” Steve comes and Bucky jerks him through it. Bucky lets him go, moves, a twitch of his cock in Steve’s passage and even that’s a lot. “Sensitive, daddy.”

“I’m sure. Ready, baby?” Bucky fucks him, slow and steady, and then faster, watches the tears fall down Steve’s face, moans when Steve grabs his ass hard in his hands. Bucky grinds into him. Fuck. Was that what Steve wanted?

“Daddy, daddy. It’s a lot, daddy.”

“You’re doing so good. Taking it so well. I knew you would. Don’t you love getting a big cock in there?”

“Daddy. Sensitive. Please? Please, please.”

“No. We’re not doing please. Not right now. Be a good girl and come on daddy’s cock. What do you need?”

Steve nods, brow furrowed as he lets it happen. It overwhelms him suddenly, a hard rub over a good spot inside him and he comes again, which is not what he’d meant to do. “Fuck.” He was positive he’d need a solid five minutes. Maybe ten. But, he’s Bucky’s now. It isn’t up to him. The reality is a little terrifying.

“Perfect. Good boy. That makes me so happy. Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

“Daddy, no. Please, no.” He’s come too much, too quickly. His ass is throbbing and so hot. His balls are beginning to ache.

“This is your last chance. I’m not going to touch that pretty dick again this weekend and neither are you. Make yourself come one last time, and after that, you come on my cock or not at all.”

“I can… I can wait,” he begs.

“Do it, baby. I want to feel you going tight on me. Give it to daddy.”

Steve is a shivering mess throughout. Bucky kisses him, has to force him to kiss back, has to remind Steve to stroke his own cock, subspace landing on him like a ton of bricks. When he comes, it’s quiet and deep inside himself, like he’s falling inwards, until he’s done and then it’s a high pitched cry and he wraps both hands around his cock, scared Bucky will touch it.

The cock in his ass is so big. His hole is spasming. “Done daddy. I want a break.”

“I bet you do. Feel so good.”

Bucky doesn’t stop. In and out. Over and over. Steve lets go of his cock, touches Bucky’s face. Bucky turns his head, sucks Steve’s fingers. “You taste like come, sweetheart.”

He nods. In and out, Steve thinks, over and over again, like it’s a weird metronome, some part of him rocking back and forth, disconnected from a lot of it. Finally. Bucky goes still, pulls out and Steve groans in relief. Steve turns to his side, puts his hand over his hole. His hole is fucked open and swollen. There’s spasming deep inside him. This is his not his body. This is his daddy’s body. Steve presses his face into the bedding. “God, god. That was so much, daddy.”

“I know. You did so good. Are you sore?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I’ll be quick as I can then.”

What? No. Steve turns to look. Bucky is taking off the cock ring. He’d forgotten. “Hands and knees or like a good girl?”

“I— you didn’t come,” he says, even though he knows the answer. There’s no wetness besides lube on his fingers. There was no moment of Bucky coming. It was just so long and so intense and he’d come so much, drifted away, that when Bucky had stopped, he’d just… “Daddy?”

“No, baby. I had the ring on, remember? That was for you. Hold onto a pillow, baby. Let’s get your ass in the air. That might feel a bit better since you’ve been ridden so hard. You’re just a little bitty thing. It’s all new and your hole took me well, but we’re just not done yet.”

“Bucky. Daddy. It was a lot,” he says, voice trembling. It’s real now. No hype or playing it up. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispers.

“I know. Come on. Let daddy get his now. You’ve done so good. I’ll be gentle as I can. But, come on. You came a lot. I treated you sweet, didn’t I? Do you want the cuffs? I wanted to save them for later.” He can’t even think about that. That there will be more. Harder. This is the beginning.

“Daddy, I love you,” he says.

“Good boy. I know. I feel it. You do. Let me show you now.” Steve turns over, gets his ass in the air. His arms are weak. Steve laughs, but isn’t quite sure why. He wipes tears onto the pillow, clutching it tight like his daddy told him to. He’s so sore. He’s throbbing, aching deep inside.

His daddy isn’t done with him yet.

“Oh, babydoll. It’s so pink and swollen. You look so fucking pretty. God, how could I not fuck this hole?” he asks, and touches the rim with a finger. Steve yelps. Looks back over his shoulder. Bucky is staring down at him. Steve feels like a whore. Like his daddy’s slut. He buries his face in the bedding.

Bucky’s hands are bruising hard. The head notches and Steve jerks. “Settle. Easy, babydoll. Shh, here you go. You’ll like it once it’s in. God, you are just so tight. Fuck, that’s good. Nice and easy now,” he says, gritting the words out, a steady stream of praise and filth as he fucks Steve.

Steve drops almost instantly. Just leaves his body. He can feel the fucking but it’s like the rocking of a boat. It’s him back and forth. There’s something massive behind him, there’s words and comfort and hot hands on him. He feels his daddy spill into him. Tries to say yes. That’s his come now. All his. His gift. Bucky pulses inside him, so big and deep.

It was never like this when it was just him. Never. His daddy doesn’t leave. “We’ll make sure I’m all empty before I leave your sweet hole. Stay like this. I’ll get your plug.”

He hears that clearly. Licks his lips, tries to wipe away the drool. “Daddy, I can’t have a plug.” His voice sounds like he hasn’t spoken in days.

“Why not?”

It takes a minute for the reason to come to him. It’s just so much fucking work. “I like it too much.”

“That’s not my problem. You’re mine. I want you plugged. Stay like you are.” Bucky gets out of bed. He grabs onto the bed frame for a moment. “Christ.”

“Good,” Steve mumbles, glad he’s not the only one fucked and clumsy with it. Bucky presses a hand to the back of Steve’s neck. Steve smiles. It’s good. Bucky comes back with a plug. A ridiculous blue rhinestone at the end. “It’s not comfortable for very long, but it looks so cute. We’ll get you the other one later.”

“How much stuff did you buy?” he mumbles, tries weakly to clench his hole.

“Hey. What happened to the metal dildo?”

“Oh. It’s in my bag. I had convoluted reasons for keeping it elsewhere.”

“Well, now it can go in your box here. In terms of what I bought… let’s just say that if you do wear me out and you still feel needy, we have plenty of options. I like getting things for you.”

“I think I take that back. About you not being able to wear me out.”

“You _think_?”

“I don’t want you to rest on your laurels. Oh fuck, that feels so good,” he says, as Bucky kisses his hole, licks at him with the flat of his tongue. “Fuck, daddy. I’ll come. I don’t want to come again.” Bucky keeps licking at him, slurping and licking and Steve comes weakly, cock barely twitching, he’s so spent. He groans and tries to twist away from Bucky’s tongue. Bucky holds him still. He sighs and gives in.

“Good boy. Here’s your plug,” he says. And presses it into him. It’s so cold compared to the burning inside him. His body shapes around it, pulsing gently.

“Thank you, daddy,” he slurs.

“It looks so good,” Bucky says, smugly. He sorts out the bedding, manhandles Steve so he’s settled against him.

“Daddy?”

“That’s right. I’ve got you now. You made me so happy. You felt so good. Have a little rest, baby.”

Steve drifts away. He’s perfect.


	19. Chapter 19

Steve gets breakfast for lunch, and although the eggs aren’t great cold (heated up would make them worse) the fact that he gets to eat every bite and know they’re not that great because his daddy was too busy fucking him to eat, that using Steve was more of a priority than food… it’s a good meal.

He continually finds himself in Bucky’s arms or pressed against him, leaning close as Bucky fondles him. His hole still throbs and aches, and he shouldn’t like the feeling, he isn’t even sure he likes it in a normal way he can articulate, he’s just… _good_. He was perfect and has served his purpose. He’s made Bucky happy and he loved how it felt. He came and he lost himself and Bucky took care of him and got him through it… he wants it again.

All of it, every single bit of it he wants over and over again.

And, still, as if that wasn’t enough, there’s the plug in his ass making him feel drowsy and touch-starved. The plug is his kryptonite. It’s a lot.

“How do you feel,” Bucky asks, when he closes the dishwasher door. He reaches for Steve, pulling him back into his arms. Steve sighs in relief. Bucky has on black boxer briefsthat Steve likes quite a lot.

He’s hard and Steve can feel it against his stomach. “I feel good. Content. Sore. Tired. Happy.”

“How sore?”

“Not _really_ sore.”

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, kissing him on the forehead and the cheeks and his nose and then his lips and Steve sighs happily. He’s grinning like an idiot but that makes him feel cherished and floaty inside. “It might be a bit soon, but how did you feel about the way things went? It wasn’t just sex, it was a scene. I’m concerned it was too much for you.”

Oh, god, is Bucky _still_ talking? Steve thinks about what he asked. “No, it wasn’t. I loved all of it.”

Bucky takes Steve’s face in his hands, kisses his cheek. “I slapped you.”

“You can’t ask me questions and do the gentle kisses. Honestly, I don’t know.”

Bucky grins at him. “You’re cute.” He lets go, twines their fingers together instead. Flesh hand only.

“Yeah, you did slap me but not hard. And you did a good job telling me why. It felt different. It was helpful. I was so out of it. Honestly, half of it is a blur I went so deep. I’m glad you did it.”

“Okay, good. In the moment it seemed like a good idea. I don’t know what else I could have done. Gotten up and thrown a bucket of water on you or something. I just wanted you to stay with me for that. You’re deflowering.”

Steve blushes. “Now who’s from the olden days? I’m glad you did it. No bucket of water. Ever. Honestly, you told me it wasn’t because I was bad, and we’ve talked about the spanking this morning and… I’m good. And,” he looks down, raises Bucky’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “I can try the spanking again. If you want to. Well, I _know_ you want to. And, I’m… willing to try it again. Maybe carefully?” 

“_If_ I spank you, it will be because it seems like a good time to train you into it. We’d be calm and gentle and there would be lots of praise.”

“I like the sound of that. I’d be… over your lap then?” Steve asks, pressing in tight and rubbing his nose into Bucky’s neck.

“You would yes. I’d touch you a lot. Finger you and make you come. Part of giving your ass the love it deserves.” Steve won’t argue with that.

“I loved what we did,” Steve says, and has a vaguely fucked out memory of saying something in subspace that he might not have wanted to. “I was… I definitely went into sub space.”

“You did. You were down for a lot of it.”

“If I said anything during that….” That’s not a sentence. How does he finish that thought?

“I don’t know what you mean. You were perfect. And, it’s a bit of a blur for both of us I imagine,” Bucky says, kissing him and holding him close. Giving him the out. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay. Thank you, daddy.”

“Let’s watch a movie and spend some time on your ass. Does that sound like a good idea?” Steve blushes, nods sharply. “Go wait on the couch for me. Actually, get your dildo, too. Just in case.”

Steve’s heart thumps in his chest as he goes to his bag and gets the dildo. It’s heavy in his hand. Not as big as Bucky’s cock, but smooth and tapered.

He takes it to the living room and Bucky is sitting on the couch, in the middle. He’s got a towel over his lap. He looks Steve up and down, thinking. “Actually, come here first,” he says, getting up and pushing the towel off his lap. He holds out his hand and Steve takes it. Gets led back to the bedroom and to Bucky’s closet. “Find something you want to hold onto and bury your face in while I’m playing with you. You can choose this sweatshirt,” he says, taking it off the hanger, “which was just washed, or…this t-shirt, which I wore under my workshirt yesterday,” he says, pulling it out of the dirty laundry. He gives Steve one more look. Steve’s face is getting hot. He isn’t sure why. Well, he is sure why. He’s not choosing the sweatshirt, even if it is more comfortable. He doesn’t want clean laundry. He wants his daddy. He looks to the white undershirt, reaches for it. “Or,” Bucky says, pulling it back, “my shirt from the gym. It was a running day,” he says, pulling out a teal short sleeved work out top from the laundry.

“Who’s Lulu Lemon?”

“I don’t know. I refuse to even contemplate the idea that it’s a real person. Make your choice and come back to the couch,” he says, kissing Steve on the forehead and leaving him there. He picks up the gym shirt and breathes it in. It’s not complicated. He walks back out.

Bucky gives him a pleased look. “That’s my boy. Come on now,” he says, gesturing to his lap. Steve feels ridiculous. He looks silly as he lays across Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s shirt balled up in his hands as he lays down. He turns back to look at Bucky. Bucky is staring at Steve’s ass.

“How sore are you now? And how sore were you?”

“Oh, god. That’s complicated.”

Bucky gives a look. “Do tell,” he says, and strokes his hand, the metal one over Steve’s ass. Just petting him.

“When you were fucking me it kept fluctuating. Like, when I was _dry_, that was a lot. That was like a 7 out of 10 or something.”

“What’s 10? Red?”

“Uh, I guess so.” He’s not sure. What would it have to be to say red? There’s got to be something, right?

“Where do you think you like to be?”

“Between a 6 and and an 8? I liked what we did, that felt right. I came a lot from it and went into subspace… it was beautiful. And… hey, I’m not a virgin anymore.”

“You’re not. You’ll likely be wearing the panties again. And we might pretend every now and again. I think you liked being my virgin.”

Steve wiggles on his lap. “Fuck, yeah. And you spit on my hole,” he says, and has a sudden moment of shock that he’s just said it so casually. Just when he thinks he’s gotten used to talking about these acts, he gets surprised again. “You still think you won’t take me with just spit?”

“Let’s give that a bit of time, shall we? You’re like one of those snakes that has the giant bulge because it ate a squirrel or whatever.”

Steve looks back at him. Watching Bucky like this is oddly peaceful. And arousing. “Are you saying I want to bite off more than I can chew?”

Bucky snorts. “I think anyone who ever met you, would say you have a very bad habit of jumping first and worrying about the consequences later.”

“What are the consequences?”

“I don’t know,” he says, staring at Steve’s ass like it has the answers to the universe. “Kink and masochism are not that easy. There will be times, like the spanking, where we do something that upsets you. Takes getting used to or isn’t something you like. Let’s get the fundamentals down before you want to run a marathon,” he says, blinking and then looking at Steve. 

“What’s this then? Stroking 101? I get it. You like my ass. Jesus, just hit it already or something.”

“You know you’re proving my point, right?”

Steve sighs loudly, snuggles into the shirt and closes his eyes.

“The plug looks so pretty. I almost feel bad taking it out,” he says, parting Steve’s cheeks, tracing around the rim which gives it a hint of a tug.

“Daddy,” he says, spreading his legs a little more and trying to tilt his hips up. Bucky makes a tsking sound. “So many things to do, so little time.”

Bucky wiggles the plug, taps it gently with one finger, and Steve shudders, suddenly on the verge of coming. “Not yet, daddy,” he whispers.

“Shh, easy now. I’ll give you a minute,” he says, gently. He goes back to petting Steve’s cheek and rests his hand gently against the plug. “All secure again.”

It is secure, pressed tight against him, lodged securely between his cheeks, and he’s on his daddy’s lap. He breathes in Bucky’s shirt, the scent of his daddy filling his nose. “Shit,” he gasps, and he comes, shoves a hand under himself to try to stop it.

“No, you don’t!”Bucky says, sharply, pulling his hand away.

“I wasn’t. Oh fuck, it’s too late. Shit. Sorry, daddy,” he murmurs, humping gently at Bucky’s thigh as he rides it out. “Wasn’t trying to get a hand on it. Wanted to stop it, but it was too late. Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”

Bucky laughs. “Not for me. I love it. Plug out then,” Bucky says, and waits. A final shudder goes through Steve. “Fuck it in and out of you a little bit. Show daddy what you like. How you play with that slutty hole of yours.”

A harsh exhale and Steve reaches back, hand on the plug. He tilts in inside of himself and moans, pulls it in and out, thrusting it into himself in little movements. He tries to move, get the direct contact of Bucky’s thigh off of his cock.

“No, stay where you are.”

“I can’t. I’ll fucking come again,” he says. It’s annoying.He tries to give Bucky a glare over his shoulder. Bucky is smiling. That’s not good. Shit. Now he’s definitely getting hard.

“We’ve talked about this. What do we know?” Bucky asks. Damn him. Steve doesn’t want to say it. “Tell me,” he says, squeezing Steve’s cheek.

“Sluts do what sluts do,” he whispers, mortified and balls throbbing. He grunts into the shirt, can practically feel his body deciding to just stay hard, blood rushing back in and not letting him come down and recover. 

“Exactly.” Bucky’s hand settles over his, helps him rock the plug inside him since he’s gone still, not wanting to stay hard.

“Daddy, I just want to be calm.” Or at least not come like a thirteen year old who’s never touched himself. “You know, Sharon would complain that it took me too long.”

“She should see you now.”

“That’s not funny.” It’s kind of funny.

“I think one more and you’ll feel better. Let’s just see. We’re here to play, aren’t we?” He tries to take his hand away, but Bucky makes him stay. “Do what you like. Show me how you fuck yourself.”

Steve turns his face into Bucky’s shirt. Bucky shushes him quiet and puts his hand on Steve’s balls, stroking the back of his sac where it’s spread out before him. “Oh, god,” he whimpers and shoves into Bucky’s thigh, grinding against his hard leg. Then it’s a quick build back to the edge. 

“Daddy?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Come?”

“No, you’ve been at it long enough,” he says, and removes Steve’s hand from the plug, takes his hand off Steve’s balls. “Hips back. Stop grinding that cock against me.”

Steve whimpers at the denial, presses his face into Bucky’s shirt. Bucky touches his back softly. “Tell me when I can take the plug out.”

Steve takes a few breaths. “I’m okay.”

“Good boy.” Bucky takes the plug out, easing it out of his hole slowly. “Oh, that’s pretty. You’re open, sweetheart. It would be a messy fuck right now, wouldn’t it?”

“P-please?”

“Please, what?” Bucky asks, dipping two fingers into Steve’s hole.

“Fuck me while I’m open?”

“How sore are you now?”

“Um, five? Maybe four?”

“Hmm. What do you want? Just to be fucked right here?” Before he can say a word, Bucky dumps him to the ground and Steve is on his knees, startled. Bucky moves behind him, startlingly fast, as he reaches between Steve’s legs, gets his metal hand on Steve’s balls. “Hips up now,” he orders, shoving his underwear down his thighs while he pulls Steve to where he wants him.

“Daddy,” he begs, the roughness making him feel soft and vulnerable. Shit. He’s going to cry again.

He takes lube out of a small wooden box on the floor, which Steve hadn’t even noticed, and slicks his cock. He shoves inside. Straight in, balls deep in one. Steve half collapses, catching himself. He looks back, tears welling. “Daddy?”

“What is it, baby?”

“My shirt. Can I grab it?” he asks, looking longingly at the couch. Bucky pulls out of him and Steve grunts at the quick withdrawal. He gets the shirt and hands it to Steve.

“Thank you, daddy,” he whispers and shoves his face into it, tears streaming silently down his face.

“You’re very welcome. Relax. Here it is now,” He says, and there’s a hard press, slightly to the side of his hole and then he slips in, halfway home easily. Bucky groans and sinks all the way in, breathing heavily, clutching hard at Steve’s hips. Steve shifts on the ground, sounds stuttering out of him at the intensity of Bucky’s entry.

The carelessness of it.

“God, you look perfect like this. You are just so ready to get fucked. Here, baby. Daddy is going to come and then I’ll play with you.” He fucks him hard, hand going up to the collar and slotting through a ring at the back. He holds it so Steve keeps his head back and arched. It’s that or choke. “Oh, god, Steve it’s heaven inside you,” he says, pulling out and sinking in again. Bucky adjusts his grip on the collar.

It makes Steve come. And then it gags him, head dropping as he unloads with a full shudder, every muscle going weak. Bucky shoves through the contractions inside him, not stopping, slapping loudly against Steve’s ass as he rides him. He comes and presses Steve to the ground, lays on top of him.

His daddy is heavy. He’s damp with sweat. He’s panting next to Steve’s ear. Steve breaks out into goosebumps. “You’re so good to daddy. You came, didn’t you? I felt it,” he says, hoarse.

“Yes, daddy,” he mumbles, into the shirt. Bucky kisses the side of Steve’s face, lets Steve bear his weight while he softens inside him. He pulls out finally, gets back onto the couch and looks at Steve. He runs his hand through his hair and licks his lips. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. I think I should quit my job and devote myself to fucking you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, and sits back on his heels. He instantly goes back down again, hand over his hole. “_Oh!_ I’m leaking, daddy.”

“Now you know what it feels like. Do you like it?”

The tears slip down his cheeks. His hand is dripping with it. What kind of a question is that? How _can_ he like it? How can he _not_? He doesn’t know if he should press it back in or demand his plug.

“Let’s let it run out of you, baby.” Bucky puts the towel down between Steve’s legs. Steve doesn’t dare lift his chest up yet.

“Just… lose it all?” he asks, and is then mortified at what it gives away.

“There’s more, believe me,” he says, chuckling. “Let’s see how you feel being a messy come slut. I’m not sure there’s anything that makes you more of a whore than dripping my come everywhere, is there? I put a towel down for you,” he says. His voice is filled with affection. His expression is filled with affection. He knows how this is affecting Steve and he’s making it worse.

There’s no escaping his daddy. He knows everything. He’s watching for it.

The shame of it all overwhelms him. He wipes his tears away again. Looks at Bucky and how carefully Bucky is watching him. His daddy wants to know him, know every horrible depraved secret he has. His daddy doesn’t have underwear on, and Steve moves shyly closer to bury his face in his daddy’s groin, Bucky’s cock still covered in come and lube. He hesitates, breathes. Sex and heat. He kisses Bucky’s thigh. Needs a bit of help. It’s too revealing and horrible after all. He can’t do it. Can’t have what he wants, can’t take it. He waits there, lips close but not quite touching.

“What is it?” Bucky asks, gently. He puts his hand in Steve’s hair. “I’ll give my good boy anything. Always, Stevie.”

“I need it, daddy.” It chokes him. He should have said want. Need is so much worse.

“Then get it. Go on, good boy.”

Steve descends upon him like a starving man, sucking Bucky’s softening cock into his mouth. Bucky hisses, hand clenching in Steve’s hair, urging him to slow down. “Easy, angel. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t make you stop. Take a few breaths. It’s me and you. You’re so sweet. So perfect,” he says, while Steve shudders at the horrible enormity of what he wants, of letting Bucky see just how needy he is. Moments pass, his hands clenching on Bucky’s thighs as he waits there, buried between his daddy’s legs, breathing on his daddy’s cock. So close and so far away.

“I know, it’s difficult. But, I won’t judge you. I won’t cast you aside. You’re mine. For good and bad and filthy,” he says, and reaches between his legs, hand bumping Steve’s chin as he touches himself, offers his cock to Steve’s waiting mouth. “Gently now. Get me cleaned up and then get yourself how you want to be and you’ll stay like that for a bit, okay?”

“Yes, daddy.” He licks carefully, swallows and can’t decide if this is the best or worst thing he’s ever done. He’s soaked and leaking, come still dripping out of him, on his perineum and his foot. He shakes, everything is so intense. Somehow this is even more intimate than the sex. “Am I… is it gross?”

“No. I think it’s sweet. You’re a needy boy and you want to take care of me.”

He kisses the head of Bucky’s cock. “But, I don’t, fuck, I don’t think I did it for you. Not mostly.”

“Why did you do it then?”

Steve doesn’t even know. “Just… had to. It’s overwhelming. And I was so… grateful?” Is that the right word? “You came in my ass. It flooded out of me and I just wanted you to know how much I… it’s good, daddy. I thought it was dirty and then I wanted more and, maybe I didn’t even mean to.” Steve frowns. Obviously, he_ meant_ to. Cleaning his daddy’s cock after getting his ass fucked is a pretty intentional act.

“I can’t imagine much else that would make you feel claimed and like you belonged, then my come leaking out of you. Right?” Steve nods, takes Bucky into his mouth, holding him safe on his tongue. “Is that a fantasy?”

Steve nods, carefully.

“And now you’ve experienced it and what? You love it or not?”

“I love it,” he pulls off to say.

“And you’re a good boy, so you want to show your gratitude. I think it’s just right, sweetheart.” He sounds so sure, so reasonable. He doesn’t stop petting Steve’s hair, gets Steve’s arms around his waist. The tv clicks on. This is where he’s going to be for awhile. He has a little suck, swallowing until Bucky grips his hair so he stays still.

Everything is perfect.


	20. Chapter 20

When Bucky turns the tv off Steve has no idea how long he’s been down there. He’s drooled everywhere. Bucky lifts him off with a hand in his hair. Steve moans at being brought back. His heart beat picks up again and his legs are numb. “Holy hell. Um, thank you. Daddy.” He works his jaw.

“What was on tv?” Bucky asks him, running a hand through his hair.

“I have no idea. Was it a comedy?”

Bucky leans forward, kisses him on the nose. “You’re so good. How long do you think that was?”

“I have no idea. An hour?”

“Two.”

“I just had your dick in my mouth for two hours?” He asks, incredulously.

“It’s the kind of thing they should have a world record for. I’d happily submit your name. Photographic evidence.” Which is another way of saying he was a total freak about it. It’s Bucky’s way of saying his reaction isn’t the norm.

“Very funny. Are you sure it was 2?” There is something wrong with him if having Bucky’s dick, unclean (Spit cleaned?) dick in his mouth for two hours is a good time.

“Actually, I am. Let’s see what shape your pretty bottom is in now. Up, turn and bend over. Hold your cheeks open. Show daddy.”

Steve nods. Puts his head back on Bucky’s thigh, kissing his leg, wanting the hair to rub on his face. “I’ll get up, daddy,” he eventually says, because Bucky is waiting and he does mean to. 

“Does that sound like too much effort, sweetheart?”

“I’m tired. Don’t usually sleep that well. I think now that I’m with you and so… content I’m making up for it or something.”

“Do you want to nap?”

“Want to be with you.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’ll read and lay with you. I have no plans but taking care of you and using you.”

“I like both of those things. And, yes, please for laying down with me,” Steve says, finally pushing up to his feet. He stretches, Bucky watching the long line of his body.

“You’re still going to show me, aren’t you?” he asks, when Steve’s arms come down and he stands there blankly.

“Daddy?”

“Your hole. Let me see.”

Steve blushes, looks down. “Yes, I, ew. There’s come on my ankle. Gross. Hold on,” he bends down, takes the towel and wipes at his ankle, come dried on his skin. Bucky puts a hand on his back. Gentle but a command. “Don’t move. I’ll look.”

Steve huffs, tensing anxiously. Bucky stands, goes behind him, hand trailing down his back and pausing on his right cheek. He can tell Bucky is looking at him. It’s Pavlovian or something, but he clenches. “You’re pretty tight again already. That’s going to be useful.”

Bucky presses a finger into him and Steve braces his arm against the couch. There’s lube still but not quite enough. “Why… useful?” _Daddy, daddy,_ he thinks. When he’s bent over with daddy playing with him, shouldn’t he call him that?

“I liked fucking you open like that. Did you like it?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, and it’s actually a relief to call him that.

“Do you want it that way a lot? Me forcing my way inside you because I can’t wait?”

“I… I liked both, daddy. Forced sounds… well, not good.”

Bucky snorts, amused. “That’s where you’re gonna draw the line, sweetheart? Plug-loving come slut is one thing, someone who likes a bit of rough fucking is beyond the pale?”

“I don’t know,” he says, that degrading description ringing in his ears. It’s not wrong. Once again, Bucky has said it fondly, and it has this sick, slightly humiliating appeal, but. “Rough sex is good. That’s like, you know maybe a bit of finger bruises or pressing someone down, but—.”

“Someone? Or you?”

“I don’t know. Someone. _Anyone. _But, _forcing_ your way inside… someone. M-me, that’s like, I mean that’s rape. That’s not the sort of thing one jokes about.”

“Let’s call it consensual non-consent. You say no, we both know you mean yes. No one is making jokes about rape and you don’t want to be raped. It doesn’t matter what your fantasies are so long as you have a partner you trust to act on them with. Communication,” he says, brushing the backs of his fingers down Steve’s crack and gently over his hole. “God, you should see how beautiful you are.” 

“Daddy,” Steve says, softly.

“What is it, sweetheart? Are you going to answer my question?”

“What’s the question?” He can think of it, but it would take a moment and be easier if Bucky stopped touching him. Bucky’s hand goes still. He waits.

“Can I get up now?”

“Why?” Bucky puts his hands along Steve’s, highlighting that he’s holding his cheeks open with both hands again.

Steve is a little light headed, intensely vulnerable in this position and with Bucky’s calm attention and waiting for the answer. “I like it to hurt. It’s not a new question,” he says, defensively.

“I know. I was surprised you hesitated. There’s a rhythm to you. We do something intense and you seem to latch onto something and then torture yourself with it. Do you like to suffer?”

Steve starts to straighten. The question pisses him off and he’s done with 20 questions. What about his nap?

“No, sweetheart,” Bucky orders, metal hand in the middle of his back. Steve takes a step forward, breaking position. He needs to be upright. And then his flesh hand is on Steve’s collar, through the ring at the back, pressure keeping him still.

“Fuck.”

“Settle down,” Bucky orders. “I’m still waiting for an answer. In terms of misery, you’re the one who’s having a difficult time here. I’m admiring the view. And your struggle. You’re falling apart, babydoll.”

“Doesn’t it get boring, Bucky? To have to do this all the time? Let it go for now. I want a nap.”

Bucky releases him. “Go have a nap.”

Steve straightens. Bucky is supposed to go with him. “Are you going to go with me or not? You’re going to withhold affection if I don’t do exactly as you want? That’s not very nice.”

Bucky shrugs. “I told you. I’m here to use you and care for you. If you don’t want me to use you, you may not want me to care for you, either. Maybe you want to be alone.”

“This isn’t me saying I don’t want you to use me. I just don’t want the endless questions. They all feel like a trap.”

“The questions are me using you because I mean it when I say I want all of you. You’re getting annoyed. This is a lot of time together. If you want a break, to be on your own,you can always say.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever want that.”

Bucky smiles, shakes his head a little. He doesn’t get it.

“I’m serious. Always assume I want you to touch me and hold me, even if I’m annoyed at other stuff. If I don’t, can’t I say?”

“What would you say?” Bucky asks, staring at Steve’s lips.

“Red,” he says, blushing.

“Not stop? Not no?”

“No, daddy.”

“Why is forcing emotional attention on you different than forcing sexual attention on you if that’s what we both like? What if you’re annoyed and want a break and I think you need to be fucked into a better mood or a happier headspace? What if I just want to fuck you because you suffering for me makes me hard?” 

Steve swallows, crosses his arms over his chest. He can’t meet his gaze. “Then you do that,” he whispers. Because I’ll always want it even when I don’t think I do.”

Bucky moves closer, a small fond smile on his face. He cups Steve’s cheeks, wipes away a few stray tears. “You are so good for daddy. So easy. You bend and you give and it makes me happy. If you’re emotionally closed off, I’ll emotionally fuck you open. And if you’re physically tight and resistant, should I fuck you open, too?”

Back to the start. To the same question he didn’t want to answer before. “Yes, daddy. I do love you fucking me open. It hurting. Being tight. I loved it.”

“Good boy. Do you feel relieved that I know now?”

“No,” he says, petulantly.

“Hmm. Let’s get you to bed,” Bucky says. It takes on this suggestion that he’s a naughty child being put down for nap time. Which. No. Definitely no.

Bucky gives him a small swat on his butt cheek, watching for his reaction. “You said only for good things,” Steve demands, gasping. He turns away from him, skin tingling. His dick is getting hard. He hates that. It isn’t fair. He digs his fingernails into his palms. He doesn’t want to get hard. Doesn’t want to become a needy begging mess because of an absent, friendly swat.

“You’re my good boy. Even when you’re a little naughty and tired, you’re so good. Come snuggle up with me,” he says, kissing Steve on the cheek. He licks gently between Steve’s lips. As soon as Steve opens his mouth, Bucky pulls away. 

Steve takes Bucky’s shirt with him as they leave the living room. His knees ache a little from the floor still and his jaw is tight. 

They stop by the kitchen for a drink and fruit and then the bathroom to clean come off of Steve. Bucky has two washcloths. He hands one to Steve. “I’ll do your bottom. You can do the rest.”

“I’m not… you’re not _wiping my bottom_,” Steve says, firmly, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Steve can tell he’s getting red in the face. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the creeping wash of pink. His embarrassment. Bucky smirks at him.

“I’m serious, Bucky. No. _No_.” Once again, he feels like he’s being managed. Put to bed. A naughty boy. Over-tired. He tosses the shirt to the corner. It’s not some fucking baby blanket. He likes it, but he’s not going to drag it around like a child.

Bucky’s brows raise. “You’re adorable. Is it wrong that I kind of hope this never gets easier for you?”

“Fuck you. Stop doing the therapy bullshit for a minute. It’s never-ending.”

“You know what you say when you’re serious. You safe word or you give in. You can even give in with ill-humor. We’ve talked about elimination. You wipe your own bottom for _that_. This is come. And lube. That’s mine. I made you messy, I fucked you open and I get to see it and tend to it. If come needs to be wiped up, you can ask me.”

“What? No,” he says, laughing at the ridiculousness of that. “What do you want _now_? ‘Please daddy, can I wipe up the leaking come that’s dripping onto your stupidly expensive rug?’ You want me to ruin your couch and your bedding so you can have the satisfaction of being asked? You need to have your head examined, not me.” 

“To be fair, everything cleans. It may not look like it, but stain resistance was a priority.”

Steve wants to hit him.

“But, Yes. Actually. Unless I give you express permission, when we’re together, your hole is mine. What goes in it, what leaks out of it. How red and how open it is. Which toys you get stuffed in that greedy cunt of yours, that’s all mine. You get to wipe up in the toilet to your heart’s content. This isn’t that, babydoll.”

“You just want to humiliate me,” Steve grits out.

“So? You usually like it. And, I definitely like it. I’m thinking maybe you don’t touch it unless I say so. At all. You’ll ask me first. What do you say to that?” Bucky asks, darkly. It’s such a weird moment because Steve can feel how intent Bucky is, how oppressively… _dominant _he is. Bucky wants this. He’s hungry for it almost. There’s a silent demand to submit and Bucky is getting closer and almost taller or bigger or something, as he closes in on Steve. Closing in without moving. Steve feels like one of those animals that’s about to get eaten by a lion, thinking he was out for a stroll and a nice drink of water while he’s actually being hunted from the shadows. Wait. Was it a nature program? He’s almost positive that was on in the background while he was engaged in his epic cock-warming marathon.

Steve is staring down into the sink, can see the shirt he discarded out of the corner of his eye. He wants it. He’s pretty sure he’s wound up in a place he doesn’t want to be. Arguing with his daddy when he wants a nap and a cuddle. And the fucking shirt. He isn’t good at this. He does always fight. He gives in and some part of him is instantly thinking he should get back up again, get some self-respect and not… give so much.

Even though he wants to.

“Poor sweetheart. Let daddy fix it. I can see you shrinking in on yourself.”

Steve shakes his head. Swallows. “It’s a lot. It’s been a lot today. Give me… give me this. You do get everything else. So much. Too much. I’m messy… and sometimes I want to be perfect for you. Or, present myself a certain way. And, that’s when I step in to take care of myself. I want to look good for you.”

“It does look good. And, as perfect as your hole is, it isn’t just your hole that makes me hard. You being open and sloppy will make me hard. You being red and sore will make me hard. Wiping you up when you find that devastating, makes me hard. I decide.”

Bucky moves closer, fixated on him. Bucky’s getting hard. Steve has no idea why. It makes him want to cry and bury his face in his daddy’s groin again. It’s weird. Bucky’s reaction is weird. Steve’s reaction is weird. Why is it all so fucked up and yet he couldn’t go anywhere else even if he wanted to? He doesn’t. Some fucked up part of him loves this more than anything. He feels his own body responding, like Bucky just draws it out of him, makes it happen, willing him and his desires into existence.

“What would I be letting you believe?” Bucky asks, softly. “If I leave you here to do this on your own?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, clinging on by a thread. “That I have a choice. Or that I’m my own person. I want to choose. And, I want to wipe myself up.” 

“You always have a choice. You know how to make me stop. How to claim this for yourself.”

“I don’t want to use red for this.”

“That’s a choice, then. Choosing not to choose. That’s yes.”

“It isn’t. This is different. And… it’s a little thing. Daddy, it’s _nothing_.”

“It’s not a little thing. You’re arguing with me. You’re shaking, babydoll. It’s a big thing.”

“Then just let me fucking have this if you know that! Love me enough to let me have it?” God, is he begging.

“I’m not sure it works that way,” Bucky finally says, frowning. Bucky opens and closes a drawer, opens the one below it. Pulls out a bottle of lube. “What if I love you enough to _not_ let you have it?” He asks, putting some in his hands. He smears it all over his cock and then stands behind Steve, watching him in the mirror. Steve plants his hands on the counter but says nothing. Fingers brush against his hole, two pressing inside. It’s perfunctory.

“What if I take everything? Good and bad?” Bucky’s cock presses blindly against him, Bucky refusing to look down as he finds the tight ring of Steve’s hole. Steve shuffles his feet apart, just a little. Bucky presses, breaches him. “Good boy,” he whispers, roughly. The head is in.

“God. Fuck. You _can’t_. How can you just, _damnit,_” he grunts, as Bucky reaches around him, grabs him hard by the pecs and slowly fucks into him. “Bucky,” Steve growls and almost flinches when he bottoms out. When Bucky smirks at him.

“You feel so fucking good. This is where you belong. On my cock. This is where I belong. In your ass. Don’t call me Bucky. No one else in the entire world gets to call me what you do. No one ever will. Just you,” he says, cock flexing inside Steve. Steve struggles to relax. Bucky is fondling him roughly, like he’s trying to bruise his chest, make him red and sore. 

Steve swallows. “Daddy,” he pleads, and Bucky looks down, watching his cock sink into Steve’s ass. He can feel the drag of it, the steady pushing and pulling. Bucky lets go of Steve’s chest, parts Steve’s cheek and grinds closer, deeper. Shoves hard so Steve stumbles into the counter.

“Good boy. You have no idea how fucking hard you make me. You make me crazed. You tell me you want a day, just a hint of a break, and suddenly I can’t stand the very thought of it. The moment you even hint about wanting a boundary with me, wanting to keep me out, it makes me lose my damned mind. Maybe I _should_ stand in the bathroom with you while you take a shit. Maybe I _should_ hold your cock while you piss. There is no filthy. Not with you and me. There is only intimate and understanding. It’s just more and more, sweetheart. Good boy. Fuck. Squeeze my cock. Push when I fuck into you.”

Steve breathes hard, obeys and then falls forward, chest on the counter. “Daddy. That’s a lot.”

“I know, baby. You’re so good. You take everything I give you, don’t you?”

“Yes. I will. Fuck, you know I will.” Steve grunts, tries to keep it quiet. Fuck, it’s a lot. The burn is intense and deep. He’s been used hard today. His daddy isn’t done with him. He’ll never be done with him. Fuck. He’s going to come.

“I don’t know if there is anything you’d deny me. Not really,” Bucky says, like he wants Steve to say no.

Steve doesn’t answer. He presses his face into the tile, head turned to the side so Bucky can see his tears. He wants daddy’s shirt. He needs to come. Fuck, he hurts inside now. “So pretty. You feel so good.” He clenches when Bucky thrusts, making a pained little sound, and Bucky groans and grinds into him.

“That’s so sweet. So good to your daddy. That felt good and it hurt you, didn’t it?”

He nods. _Don’t come, don’t come_, he thinks.

“Good boy. Do it again, sweetheart. That’s going to make me come so fast. So hard.”

Steven clenches, whimpering at the hurt and Bucky moans. “God, Steve.”

It’s like a conversation between them. Each noise gets a response. Steve lets the hurt carry him along, tells Bucky how difficult it is with steady sounds and Bucky responds over and over again. A litany of “Shh,” and “you’re so good, baby.”

Then it’s constant, just him thrusting and Steve doesn’t even think he’s clenching right anymore, but he’s hurting and trying, and his daddy is getting close to coming. “Easy, sweetheart. That’s good. There you go. Do it again. I know it hurts. I see it on your face. Getting wrecked on daddy’s cock. Pretty, pretty slut. I hear it, I feel it in my balls. Louder for daddy. So fucking good, babydoll. I love it. Do it for daddy. _Shh_, it’s okay. You’re my good boy. You are,” he whispers, thrusting erratically. He groans abruptly and comes deep inside Steve.

The orgasm bursts out of Steve. He can hear it hitting the cupboard. Feel it making him get so tight on Bucky’s cock. He keens at how much worse that makes it.

Bucky rubs Steve’s back.

“Jesus, baby. I want to clean you up. I want you to know that I love the good and the bad parts of you. I do. But….” He’s still touching Steve. Thinking about what he wants to say while Steve lays there, lip wobbling and staring at nothing. “Stevie. Maybe… maybe you can’t say no to me. I’m not sure. I don’t know. So… I’ll let you have this, because I don’t know everything. My love. You go ahead and clean yourself up.” Steve exhales hard in relief, sobs and Bucky squeezes his shoulders, thumbs rubbing into the tight muscles. “But, remember that I want to do it. Okay?”He kisses Steve high on his back and pulls out slowly.

Steve straightens, futilely tries to close his legs, to clench, which he doesn’t do a good job of and which somehow just makes him leak faster. Steve’s hand stays pressed against his hole as come leaks out of him.

“Where’s the cloth?” Steve asks, fearing he sounds as desperate as he feels.

Bucky offers it to him. Steve looks away. Bucky presses it against Steve’s hole, Steve’s hand trapped under it. Steve uses his free hand to support the cloth and nods. His daddy can let go now. When Bucky takes his hand away, he hasn’t seen Steve’s messy hole, all the come oozing out of him. How red he must be. He’s sore and throbbing. Thinks he’s twitching and trying to close and at least Bucky isn’t seeing _that_.

Steve presses the cold cloth against himself while Bucky cleans himself up in the sink beside him, hands and cock. Bucky finishes up, points to a closed door. “Towels are in there, sweetheart. I’ll get the bed ready for you.” He’s about to leave. “Wait. One last thing,” he says, and goes to his closet. He opens a drawer and rummages around. He pulls out a pair of blue silk panties, but they look like boy shorts. They’re downright chaste in comparison to what he’s been wearing. Bucky puts them on the counter, kisses him quickly on his jaw and leaves him there.

For once, Steve doesn’t cry. He’s… numb? Cold? Afraid? Should he be angry? He’s pretty sure he should be angry. That emotion isn’t there. Anger is his old friend. He survived winters, fights, and loss because he was so angry. Where is it now?

He cleans himself up with the cloth, rinses it out and wipes at the come and the slick. From his daddy. Who used him so hard. He doesn’t know where to put it so he leaves it with the other one on the counter, wrapped up in the non-come soaked cloth. He washes his hands, looks at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed. Pink fingerprints from Bucky’s hands on his chest are visible. He touches them, almost reverently.

He puts the panties on, feels so fucking fragile at the moment that he’s grateful Bucky gave them to him. Something, a tiny bit of modesty or self-preservation. Just enough. Like wiping up. Bucky decided. Gave in. Because he isn’t sure Steve can say no to him. What a horrible thought. What a… Bucky is his _daddy._ His daddy will take care of him. He doesn’t want to say no. He’d rather it went wrong then argue. Bucky is too important.

His daddy is standing next to the bed.Bucky pulls down the covers, furthest from the door and Steve almost complains. He should be near the door. Just in case. “This is your side,” Bucky says, firmly.

“Yes, daddy,” He gets into bed and Bucky pulls the bedding up, tucks him in. Kisses him on the forehead.

“Do you want me to get in bed with you or get the shirt first?”

“I don’t… I won’t wear it,” he says, stupidly.

Bucky smiles at him. “Sweet boy. I know. That’s not the purpose.”

“I want it, daddy,” he says, and has to bite his bottom lip.

“Good boy. I’ll be right back,” he says, kissing him on the forehead. He’s back in no time, hands it to Steve who suddenly feels like an idiot. It’s too revealing. He shoves it under the pillow, brings his hands out. Bucky gets into bed with him. Lays down and opens his iPad. Steve closes his eyes, tries to sleep. He moves closer, nose pressed against Bucky’s arm. Bucky lifts his arm, leans forward and rubs Steve’s lower back for a moment. Steve moves into the space and when Bucky leans back again, he has to put his arm behind Steve. Steve is practically snuggled into his armpit now.

He wants to stay there. So badly. “Good boy,” Bucky murmurs. “I like that you need me, sweetheart. I need you, too.”

It’s this massive thing between them. He knows Bucky is thinking about it. Worried.

“What if you’re right? What if I can’t say no to you? Or what if it’s just that I don’t want to? If you hurt me, I know you’d fix it. Mistakes get made. I want to trust you. And that’s… that’s my gift to you. Why is that bad, daddy?” he asks, lifting his head. Bucky blurs in his vision. He blinks and the tears spill.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says, sounding pained.

“You should _always_ decide. Won’t you do right by me?”

“You rip my fucking heart out, you know? I _hope_ so. I _want_ to. And, it’s a very beautiful idea. To give up your ability to say no. To just trust. But, that scares me, Steve. I think that’s a gift you’re giving me, but actually you want it for yourself. If you’re really giving me a gift, then it will be taking care of yourself and saying no when you need to. I don’t know what I just taught you back there. If there even was a lesson. If I forced the issue, cleaned you up, crossed that boundary and that was the wrong decision, then I’d have hurt you. So, I let it go, didn’t make you use your safe word and maybe that reinforces your idea that you can always trust that I’ll know? I _don’t _know, baby.”

“You made me cry. The hurting and the clenching, making me take that even though it’s hard. You don’t second guess that.”

Bucky huffs. “You’re a pain slut. You love it. I love it. I can read you for that. Maybe I’m too confident, but I feel like I know those edges for you. And that I’d be able to tell if it was going wrong. What you’re talking about is a form of slavery. Giving up your will to me. I know that’s an idea that’s always appealed to you. But, sweetheart, we _can’t_ do that. It’s too soon. We can… we can revisit it eventually. Probably. Maybe.”

“When?” Steve demands, needing to know.

“A year after you’ve moved in? You move in with me, a year later, if it’s still what you want, to not be able to say not to me, ever, then… maybe.”

“You don’t want it.”

Bucky is quiet for too long. Steve gets tired again. Sleep dragging him under. “No, I do want it. I’m scared because I think I want it just as much as you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone worried about this story ending. I can't even get these bastards past Saturday. it may never happen at this rate!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's new!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a decent weekend. I know it's been a few days but the good news is I should be able to post through Friday now as I have enough words to edit and expand upon.

Saturday night was downright relaxing. After Steve’s nap, they chopped veggies for dinner and Bucky made a stir fry which was actually good. Sharon had occasionally made a stir-fry and while it was fine, there was definitely the sense that it was a lot of vegetables in a lot of salt and that no Chinese restaurant would serve something that mediocre.

They get settled on the couch, Steve with his head in Bucky’s lap, Bucky touching his hair and they watch a movie. “Did you watch a nature program earlier?”

“No,” Bucky says, laughing gently.

“What was it? It’s killing me.”

“Trash. Utter trash. It’s this show called Below Deck about people who work on ridiculously expensive yachts and the jerks who hire the boats. It’s drama and pretty scenery.” Steve touches his wrist cuffs endlessly, fingers going over them again and again. He breathes in the leather and rubs them against his face.

Bucky hauls them to bed and Steve is so out of it he goes to sleep and when he wakes up it’s bright. It may be the best sleep of his entire life. He isn’t sore, though. Not at all. He is _hard._ Bucky is up before him. Steve can’t help but be disappointed that he didn’t use him in the night, but it was quite a big day. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Bucky brings him coffee and sits beside him. Kisses his face and touches him.

“Daddy.”

“What is it, good boy?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say it.”

Bucky chuckles. “You’re adorable. Enema first thing?”

He blushes. He leaks at the idea. “Yes, please,” he says, and sits up, putting his arms around Bucky and kissing him, morning breath and all. It’s all too lovely not to. “Thank you, daddy.”

“For what?” He asks, kissing him lazily. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste. He’s showered and dressed while Steve is in his blue panties and sleep warm. Steve likes the contrast, arches closer. Bucky plays with his pecs, squeezing and pinching gently at his nipples.

“Taking care of me.”

“You took care of me, too,” he says, and goes to get the enema set up. Steve has a bit of coffee and heads into the bathroom, relieves himself, brushes his teeth and then lays down on the towel Bucky has down for him.

Bucky checks him first, murmuring to him as he parts Steve’s cheeks. “We have to see, don’t we? Make sure you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“I know. You’re perfect, aren’t you? Will you let me look now?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, embarrassed and uncertain about the day before. He may have over-reacted. In the moment, it seemed perfectly rational, of course.

Bucky presses a finger into him very briefly. So briefly Steve isn’t even going to count it, and gets the enema placed in him. Bucky stares down at him. “Don’t come,” Bucky orders, squeezing Steve’s chest. He takes off Steve’s cuffs and collar and Steve hates that, but says nothing.

“I’ll put them back on you when you come to the kitchen,” Bucky says, brushing his thumb over Steve’s mouth. “Daddy puts them on you and takes them off. Understand?” he asks, getting to his feet. Steve leans closer, kisses the top of Bucky’s foot. 

When Steve gets out of the shower and is all clean and ready to start the day, there’s another pair of panties for him. Red and a thong. He fits even less well in these than he did in the other ones. Bucky gets him re-cuffed and Steve doesn’t come, but it’s only because Bucky is very perfunctory about the whole thing.

“You know, it’s been at least 12 hours since either of us came.” Steve is pretty sure he’s going to get teased about his hair trigger. His face gets hot and the fabric of his panties gets wet.

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky says, which tells Steve nothing.“How do you feel about yesterday?” Bucky asks, hauling him close. Steve ducks his head in against him. “I give myself whiplash. God only knows what you think,” he says. “You have to admit you’d be happier with someone who had more experience. Wasn’t so up and down.”

“That’s so untrue I’m going to assume it’s a request for flattery. I just want you. I’m not running away. I still want you in my home and in my bed. We don’t have real problems, Steve.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean drugs or alcohol or money. Commitment issues, sex incompatibility. We get along, we respect each other, there’s an ease there. And even when it’s difficult, you’re so honest with me. I’m trying to be honest with you… there are bumps and that’s okay. It’s normal. And, it seems to result in some pretty amazing sex so I’m not complaining.”

“Then why haven’t you touched me since yesterday? My big breakdown means you’re denying me now.”

“God knows I wanted to. This is hard, Steve. Emotionally. Even if physically we wanted it, it just seemed like a bit of time to decompress might be good. I touched you a lot, last night, didn’t I?”

“I know. And the cuddling is amazing. But, it’s the weekend. And then there’s all week, I don’t want a break. I want to make up for lost time and be good. I want to do something you want.”

Bucky snorts, leans forward to nip his jaw. “We are going to do what I want. Don’t worry.”

“What? Do you have a plan?”

“Vaguely,” he says, sliding a finger down Steve’s body and touching the wet spot on his red underpants gently. “Tell me what you’d say red to. Give me a few examples.”

“Oh my god. I’d say red to lots of things,” he says, annoyed.

“Prove it.”

“You’re trying to trap me.”

“No, I’m not,” Bucky says, laughing like Steve is ridiculous. He kisses Steve on the nose.

Steve doesn’t pout. It’s close. “I want it hard. I don’t want you to hold back.”

“You’ve completely blown past the conversation we’re actually having.”

“No, I haven’t. I’m going to answer your question and then you’re going to treat me like an adult instead of someone you have to worry about. You don’t get to deny me. Or us. That’s not okay.”

“You mean it’s not fair?”

“I do, but you like for it to not be fair, and I’m trying to have a real conversation with you,” Steve says, and now he pouts.

“I think you’re trying to get bent over, but whatever.” 

“_No_,” The answer is yes, that is what he wants and that would be a win, but being so transparent is infuriating. He hates Bucky managing him. “I just want you to really let go and I want to spend the rest of the day getting affection because you used me so hard. I like it when all I see is you. Everything just disappears. I don’t know what’s on tv or how much time passes, it’s just you and me and I want that today. But, I’m pretty sure you’re looking for proof that you shouldn’t do that. Your theory that I won’t say no or whatever. Well, I thought about it, too. There’s plenty I’ll say no to. So, treat me like a consenting adult, a fucking super soldier and don’t… deny me. Us.” Is this why he’s in red underwear? Some kind of reminder?

Bucky gives him a look. Kisses him on the nose. Steve wants to wipe it off but that would be childish.

“You want to cry and be broken down and get a lot of subspace and cuddling. I want those things, too. Okay. So, prove to me that I can do that because you’ll say your safe word,” Bucky says, almost condescending. Well, that’s how Steve hears it.

“Fine. You want me to write it down, too?”

“I love that there’s enough to write down.”

Steve glares at him. “Sharing you. The bathroom. Blood. Whips. Anything where you’re not close to me. Anything where you don’t come in me. Sex in public. Knife play. Fire. Switching. I don’t want you to make me eat stuff. Unless it’s come. But, not like, feed me or something. No suspension or where you’re just tying fucking rope all over me. I want to be your focus. No electric play or pet play. How’s that? _Daddy._”

Bucky licks his lips. “Should that have made me hard?” He pulls Steve’s hand to his pants where he’s almost fully hard now.

“God, you’re so easy,” Steve says, in the same tone of voice Bucky uses for him.

Bucky laughs. “Oh yeah? Am I a slut for you?”

“It looks like it.”

“Good. Okay, babydoll. I’m impressed. That’s a reasonable amount of things to say no to today. What do you want? Have you thought about that?”

“What are my options?” Steve asks, nuzzling into Bucky’s neck, hand rubbing gently against Bucky’s hard cock. “I did good, daddy?” he asks.

“Yes. You did good,” he says, amused. He plays with Steve’s nipples for a few moments then says, “Well, I’m thinking lots of orgasms and overstimulation, tears, begging, movement restriction and humiliation. And, I’ll fuck you, of course. Make it hurt quite a bit I think. Kiss it better.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, and gets two hands on Bucky’s cock, cups his balls. “Can I blow you first?”

“No, my little slut. We’re talking.”

Steve thunks his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “But, you’re so hard, daddy. You said I did good.” Steve lifts his head, kissing him on the mouth. “You have no idea,” he says, low and earnest, “how good it feels to stand here and touch you. Your cock in my hand and your balls, honestly, I don’t understand how it can be so fucking good. It should be a simple thing. Or just… a body. But, it isn’t. What the fuck was I doing? How did I go all this time and deny myself? And it’s worth it to be here with you now. I wouldn’t have met you any other way, but fuck I need you,” he says, wanting Bucky to just live inside him, cover him with come, spit on his hole, in his mouth, whatever he wants, just treat him like an extension of himself. His own personal toy. “Just _use_ me.”

“Shh, I will. Of course, I will. And it will be a lot for you. I promise.”

Steve looks down, raises his hands to try and undo Bucky’s clothing, get a hand on him and—

Bucky lifts his hands away. “Stop, baby,” he says, kissing his hands. “I know you need it. We’ll get there.”

Tears fill his eyes. How can Bucky wait? Even for a second? “You could be inside me already.”

“You are the most impatient person ever,” Bucky says, fondly. “Is this about you or is it about me?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, afraid he knows the question.

“Who’s needs are we satisfying? Mine. Or yours?”

He blinks back tears. “I don’t know. I want it to be you, but….” He kisses Bucky all over, touching him where he can. “Daddy. You’re hard and that’s what I need. I do need it. You don’t?” The very idea makes him feels sick. His stomach hurts and he puts his arm around himself.

Bucky sees. “Hey. I do need you. I’ll use you hard today. I want to. Hell, I feel like I need to, also. Take care of my greedy boy and you’ll take care of me. Right?” 

Steve nods, but the nausea is still there. Bucky grabs him by the jaw, gives his head a little shake. Well, Steve relaxes so Bucky can give him a little shake. “You’re my greedy boy. You’re going to take care of daddy’s hard cock, aren’t you? Your sweet little hole is going to make me feel better, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, pressing closer. “But, what about you? If that’s for me. I’m not trying to be selfish.” Shit, maybe he is. It just gets so difficult to think. He wants everything and he wants Bucky to say he’s good, even though he’s not actually sure he wants to be good if it means being patient or waiting. It’s been 12 hours. If being good is waiting, then… no. Maybe he can’t do it.

“I get to fuck you through all that and have you at my mercy. And, I like how you are. How you get frustrated and even angry and then crumble and weep. It’s beautiful. It seems exhausting and stressful for you, but it’s definitely charming.”

Charming is a stupid word. “I’m not trying to be frustrating. And I don’t get angry at you.”

“Let’s get you fed,” he says, conversation apparently over.

“Are you mad?” Steve asks.

“No, of course not,” Bucky says, laughing. “Silly goose.”

“Maybe you should spank me.”

Bucky looks at him like Steve has said something truly insane.

“You like it. I feel like I’m being difficult. I know we have to eat and it’s not long, but you don’t want my mouth or my… ass right now. Maybe you would like that?”

“You’re right, babydoll. I would like that,” he says, and he leads Steve to the kitchen table. Has him bend over, elbows on the table. “I don’t even have to take down your panties,” he says, stroking Steve’s cheeks. “How many? 10?”

“I… daddy?” It’s happening a lot faster than he thought it would. His daddy was supposed to protest. Say no. Wasn’t he?

“Here you go. Count for daddy.” He spanks him square on the right cheek with his flesh and then squeezes the flesh. “Oh, that’s so pretty and pink already. How was that?”

“One,” he says, softly. Tears fill his eyes.

“Should I switch cheeks or hit you in the same place again?”

“I don’t know, daddy,” he says. He takes a deep breath. Bucky bends over, mouths at Steve’s ass, tongue sliding over his skin. Steve moans and presses back against him.

“Pretty baby. Let’s do the same place.” And then there’s another hit.

He whimpers. “Daddy?”

“So pretty. How’s my good boy? How generous. Giving this to daddy when you don’t like it. Aren’t you good?”

Steve looks down, sees the tear hit the table. “Yes, daddy. I am.”

“Good boy. Here you go. One more, same place and then I’ll kiss this hot little cheek,” he murmurs, and the next smack comes. Steve’s lower lip wobbles. His cheek is warm and it smarts. “So pretty and pink,” he says, and there’s another wet kiss, a drag of his tongue over the skin. Steve shivers.

“Are you hard, daddy?”

“Of course I am. So fucking hard. This wasn’t a good idea. How do I stop at ten and not fuck my good boy? Here’s another one. Ready, baby?” And he hits him again. Steve whimpers. “Just one more and we switch sides. You want it hard or soft?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s for you,” he says, and relaxes into the table, head on his hands as he breathes, only a little uneven.

“Sweetheart. Then we’ll do it the exact same way, won’t we? Daddy likes it and you know what to expect.”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, and gets another smack. Then there are kisses pressed all over his hot flesh and Bucky won’t stop murmuring how sweet Steve is, how hard he makes Bucky. Steve slumps into the table, weak kneed at the praise and the soothing.

“Maybe we should stop now. You did so good. So sweet, baby.” He hauls Steve off the table, turns him in his arms. “So good. All done for my good boy.” He takes Steve’s hand and puts it on his cock, presses into his grip and kisses Steve hard. “Let’s get you fed so I can come in you, sweetheart.”

He starts to let Steve go.

“Daddy? Daddy, wait,” he begs.

“What, good boy?”

“It’s… you said 10. You didn’t do it all and now it’s not even.”

“But, that’s how good you were. So, I stopped,” Bucky says. Waiting. Watching. Asshole. 

“Good. I’m hungry,” Steve says, and Bucky nods, turns away and gets their breakfast. Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Should I sit?”

“No. Just stand there. Give me something to look at,” he says, fondly. “Turn, so I can see your ass, too.”

But, it’s uneven. It must look ridiculous. Steve’s not dumb. He understands that he’s being manipulated. Totally mind-fucked by his clever and mean daddy. Five smacks on one side and then stopping. Well, whatever. Steve isn’t going to ask for more spanks to even it out or be completist. Yes, he wants to, but he won’t give in that easily.

He turns and sucks his lower lip into his mouth, glances over his shoulder, sees Bucky staring at his ass. The red cheek. The one he marked and claimed. Steve face forward. The annoying thing is that he’s already starting to feel a little small, reduced down to where Bucky becomes everything and Steve just wants to please him and be called a good boy. If that keeps up then he might ask for the other five because his own will just doesn’t matter as much.

“Sweet baby,” Bucky says, and squats down behind Steve, rubs his face against Steve’s warm cheek. Steve shivers, reaches back to keep Bucky’s face against him for a moment longer.

“What about… can’t I get a kiss on the other side?” And Steve is positive that’s pretty fucking clever on his part, because he’s not asking for the spanking, which is what Bucky wants him to ask for, it’s just for the good bit. The kisses.

“Of course. Of course,” he says, easily, and kisses Steve’s cheek. He kisses it and rubs his face on it, licks him and nips him and it isn’t the fucking same. There’s no extra sensitivity or sense that it’s a reward. It’s just skin, it may as well be a handshake for as impersonal and un-arousing as it is when the other side has been lavished with heat and attention.

When Bucky changed his skin and exerted force and will upon him. 

“You’re a fucking asshole. And I’m never going to ask,” Steve says.

Bucky huffs a laugh as he gets to his feet, seems delighted, which is also obnoxious as anything. He presses his erection against the sleeping cheek and kisses Steve’s neck. “I’m so excited to fuck you, good boy.” He starts to move away.

Steve shifts with him, using a bit more of his abilities then he means to because he knocks back into Bucky and Bucky grabs Steve’s hips hard so he doesn’t stumble. He gets a hint of cloth covered erection against his tender cheek, but it’s not the same effect.

“You didn’t… you have to let me feel your cock on the other cheek. Even it out.” His voice trembles. He’s embarrassed at how much he wants it and how clumsy he just was.

“Do I?” he asks, blandly. “I will. But, tell me why. Articulate the difference and I will.”

Steve swallows. “Don’t be mean.”

“Give me what I want and I won’t,” he growls. His hand connects with Steve’s hot cheek, not quite another smack but there’s a sound and Bucky grips the flesh hard. Steve doesn’t come but it’s damned close. The metal hand closes gently around his neck and Steve tilts his head up and whimpers. He tries to press back, get Bucky’s cock against his skin but Bucky’s hand is tight on his ass and keeps him still. “You know how to get what you want and it isn’t by being a shameless slut and grabbing for it. It’s just words. Give me what I want, good boy and you can have a feel of what’s coming to you.”

“It feels good.” That’s it. He’s not saying more.

“Good boy,” Bucky says, and he presses his hard cock against Steve’s hot cheek. He rubs back and forth, dragging over the skin as he mouths at Steve’s neck.

“Daddy. _Please,_ daddy.”

“Soon,” he says, and he steps back.

He finishes making breakfast. Steve leaks steadily, aroused and close to coming. He wants to touch his ass, but Bucky would see and he won’t give him the satisfaction. He wipes at his cheeks discreetly and sucks on his bottom lip.

“You know,” Bucky starts.

“Don’t. Whatever you’re about to say that makes you think you’re so fucking clever, don’t.”

Bucky hands him a refill on his coffee, kisses his jaw. “You’re so damn cute, baby.”


	22. Chapter 22

By the time breakfast is done, the front of the red panties are gross. His weeping cock shows through the material, in an ever widening circle. It was a quarter size before the spanking and breakfast. Now that they’re cleaning up the dishes, after all the frustration and Bucky’s… Buckiness, it’s pathetically obvious how desperate Steve is. It’s humiliating. He likes being humiliated. Well, he hates it on an intellectual level, but his body apparently disagrees. He’s so turned on he needs a poncho. That’s awful. He’s never saying that aloud.

They put the dishes away and Bucky can’t stop staring and touching him as he slowly gets the kitchen tidied. Steve isn’t all that helpful. He’s more of a distraction. But, if he tries to help, then Bucky stops him, slides hands down Steve’s arms, wanting him to just be there and be still.

“I know how to put away dishes. I can even wash a pot,” Steve finally snarks.

“I don’t want you to.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stand there and wait for me to touch you. I want you to stay hard and… well, that’s it. That’s what I want,” he says, pecking Steve on the lips. “I didn’t say it yesterday. I don’t think. Maybe I did. But, just help yourself, you know. Food, drinks, whatever. If you ever wonder, just you know, act like it’s your house too. Which it could be,” he says it so casually.

It’s such a weird thing to be nonchalant about. A massive life decision and Bucky seems to have no doubts. Bucky gets another cup of coffee, then turns to look at him.

“Why is my baby frowning? You better keep that dick hard and wet, baby. Hey, I guess you do have a job,” he says, smiling. He moves Steve away from the counter, has him stand in the middle of the kitchen so he can touch him as he walks by and tidies. 

He’ll touch Steve’s bare ass cheek or run the back of a knuckle along the crease of his ass. It’s distracting. It makes the leaking worse. And he can’t feel the spanking anymore. Which is good. If Bucky asks him, he’s going to say he’s glad he can’t feel it anymore.

Bucky loves the leaking. He seems almost hypnotized by it. And if he couldn’t tell that Bucky liked it so much, he’d be self-conscious. In fact, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky hasn’t touched him, just so he’ll make a mess. Is that why he’s in red panties? So the mess will show?

“Sergeant, huh?”

Bucky gives him a look.

“In the military,” Steve clarifies. “Or, what kind of psychology classes did you take?”

“Why?” Bucky asks, with a grin.

“I don’t know. I can’t figure out if you’re really smart or I’m really paranoid.”

Bucky makes a hmm sound and doesn’t ask or pursue the question which doesn’t help. If he’s paranoid, Bucky would let it go. If Bucky is some tactical genius who’s specialty is the sexuality of Steve Rogers, then he wouldn’t ask either.

Bucky gets Steve more coffee then touches the wet spot for a bit, finally running his fingers down the shaft and to his balls, holding them in his hand, stroking him gently. Steve shifts on his feet. Puts the coffee on the counter. “Don’t move away. God, look at that. Stevie, _look_.”

Steve glances down. Bucky’s fingers are on his balls, rubbing. He pushes his fingers over the head of Steve’s cock, smoothing the material over the head, making the circle expand. A two handed operation, apparently. “I know what it looks like,” Steve grits out. Steve jumps a little as Bucky smears the cool material around the head of his cock. The head is sensitive, the material more abrasive with the wetness. It’s horrible.

“How wet can you get?” Bucky asks, glancing up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You leak throughout the day, right?”

“Not typically, no.” he’s blushing. “I mean, not really.”

“Why not?”

“I have to be turned on. If I’m not hard, then I don’t leak.”

“Hmm. We should put you in a cock cage. You know, for science. You won’t get hard but I bet you’d still leak for me. We could put you back in these panties. The contrast of wet and dry is really lovely.”

It’s awful, not lovely. “I wouldn’t fit a cage in these panties,” Steve says, to say something. Bitching about how much he doesn’t like the wetness showing will undoubtedly just egg Bucky on.

Bucky shrugs. He gets a serious look on his face. “It’s for _science_, Steve.”

“I may have had enough weird science experiments done on me, thanks.”

Bucky kisses him. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get me to quit this one, sweetheart. And you haven’t complained about the idea of a cage which is interesting. I want to know if we could get you wet enough to drip through the material. Get you wet all the way down,” he says, dragging a finger low and making Steve shudder, “to your balls, right _here_ and have you leak through,” he says giving Steve a firm squeeze.

“Bucky,” he begs, so close to an emotional upheaval already. He hates that idea and Bucky loves it. That means it’s happening. God, he needs to come. He looks at Bucky’s face, the lust and how much he wants it and finds himself swaying closer. _I could come for you, daddy_, he thinks, unsure if he should make the offer. The best way to get what he wants.

“There you go, good boy. Don’t come. I just want you to leak for me. You just let it out,” he says, fondling Steve’s balls. Steve isn’t even sure he’s talking to him. He might be talking to Steve’s genitals.

“You know, my eyes are up here,” Steve says.

“I don’t care. I’m objectifying you. If you think you’re going to come then I want to stop.” He plays a little more. Steve shudders, ducks in to kiss him.

“I need to feel you in me,” Steve finally says. “It’s not funny anymore. Please?”

“Fuck your hole or hurt your hole? Tell daddy.” 

“That’s why you should fuck me with spit. It would be both.”

“Sweetheart, no to that. Let’s get you fucked and hurting, though. Come on. And you should see how pretty are you, look at you in the mirror, baby. Come see,” he says, taking Steve’s hand. He leads him to a downstairs bathroom, flicks on the light and stands Steve so he can see. Steve looks but says nothing. He chews his bottom lip. What if his daddy doesn’t give him what he needs? What if Bucky just doesn’t understand that it isn’t want?

Bucky turns him, hand back down, stroking over the wetness. Steve closes his eyes. He hates this. He loves it. “We won’t make you drip today. Sounds like my good boy needs more touch than that. You wouldn’t come if we did that. That’s slow torture for my touch starved boy.”

Steve sobs. He is touch starved and he doesn’t want some slow agonizing effort to get him to drip. “Please, come inside me. Please make me come. Make me….”

Bucky grabs his chin. “There it is. _What?_” He demands.

“Make me safe word because you need me so much. That’s… that’s what I want more than anything.” He starts touching Bucky, feels so good just saying it.

“I’m glad you told me. That’s something to work towards. I know being patient is hard. I know you want everything immediately. Trust me to give you what you need. You’ve told me. You’ve offered it up to me, haven’t you? Now I’ll decide what to do with you. Because I’m your daddy. Let me hold you. Let me think for a second,” he says, and pulls Steve into his arms, hugging him tight.

Hold him. Steve doesn’t need a hug.

“More,” Steve begs, nipping Bucky’s neck.

“Hush. I’m thinking.” He runs his hands up and down Steve’s back and Steve gets his hands under Bucky’s shirt. His skin feels so good. He drags his nails down Bucky’s back, suddenly frustrated at the slowness and the denial, needs Bucky to understand how difficult it all is.

Bucky gasps, hand in Steve’s hair, so hard that tears come to his eyes. “Fuck, yes,” Steve gasps, and has to cough, his head is so far back.

“Naughty. Well, I was just going to move on and wreck your hole, but I’m thinking we could plan out how to make you drip for me first. I think you might have made your daddy bleed.”

“No. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’ll kiss it better. I’ll lick it off of you. I didn’t. Daddy, I’m sorry.” He sobs and reaches for Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky grabs him with both arms, turns him around and shoves him towards the counter.

“Daddy,” he begs. That’s all he’s got.

“Oh, babydoll,” he says, and spanks Steve’s cock gently, presses into the wetness and wipes his damp fingers on Steve’s face and down his neck. Steve gasps, shocked at the casual filthiness of it all. His cock throbs. He has no idea how he didn’t come.

“You spanked my cock.” That’s him, Captain Obvious.

“You deserve worse. My needy, impatient little slut.”

Bucky touches him again, fingers damp from rubbing at his soaked cock-head and then smears it on Steve’s lips. He waits. Watching. Steve is desperate to lick his lips. His face is hot. His balls contract and feel heavier as horrible arousal swamps him. It’s a kick inside him and it makes his cock twitch and leak.

“Go on,” Bucky says.

Steve closes his eyes. Bucky’s tongue swipes across Steve’s lips, a surprise and a shock. “No, daddy.” Steve shudders, reaching for Bucky, sagging into him. “No, daddy, no.”

“Oh, it’s like that? Well, let’s try again,” Bucky says, quietly and rubs the front of Steve’s panties. “Get you all wet, coating my fingers,” he says, kissing Steve’s neck as he fondles him. He rubs and rubs and Steve shudders, trying not to moan and fuck up into his touch. Steve swallows. Bites back a grunt as the threat of orgasm gets closer. Bucky stops at the last moment, “Shh, Shh, here. All wet because how needy you are,” he says, fingers coming back to Steve’s lips, wiping on them. “Go ahead. What do sluts do?”

Steve licks and nuzzles closer. “Beautiful. I love it when you give in, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, I need to come now. Please, please daddy.”

Bucky kisses him deeply and then pulls back, looks down, pulls the front of Steve’s panties away from his body and peers inside. It’s clear pre-come, but he’s sticky and glistening with it. “Pretty slut,” Bucky says, kissing him hard. “You’re so fucking wet I bet I could fuck you with just your own cream. But, I won’t. And you don’t deserve it. Come here. Let me show you what you were going to get. What I really should give you for scratching my back.”

He drags Steve back up the stairs to his bedroom. Bucky and his stupid telling. The talking that gets Steve hot and dumb. Agreeable. Steve’s legs don’t work all that well and everything is getting foggy.

“Why? Why tell me? You always say everything. Fuck me with my own… cream. Make it hurt.”

“I’m a therapist. I talk about sex and emotions all day. You’re asking why a fish swims. It’s good for you to talk about it and hear about it. Besides, maybe you’ll have advice for me. How to make this good for you. Or bad. Sound like you want bad, doesn’t it?”

They’re back in the bedroom. Steve reaches up, pinches his nipples with one hand, reaches for Bucky’s cock with the other. Bucky kisses him on the nose. “You need bad, sweetheart?”

He nods. “Please?” The tears come, he lets them, gives in and doesn’t try to fight it at all. “Daddy. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean it.”

“My good boy. I’m fine. I Know.” Bucky takes him to the alcove. “I should get a breeding bench for you. That would be easier. And you’d love it. I’ll look into it. But, in the meantime. Let’s talk it out. You and I, a plan. What are we making a plan for? Do you remember? You look a little out of it.”

He sighs heavily. Presses close. “I don’t know. I just want you to fuck me, daddy.”

“Sweet boy. This is so you leak sweetheart, drip through the panties. A plan for the best way to make that happen. We won’t do it today because I’m going to hurt your pretty hole like you want, but we can talk about it. For a little longer.”

Fuck. No, Steve can’t talk about it anymore. He doesn’t want to. “We have you not come. How long can you go without coming, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, daddy. Depends how long I’m without you. You make me like this.” He wants his shirt. He wants to suck his daddy’s cock or get fucked. He reaches for him, touching the edges of his t-shirt.

“There you are,” he says, like Steve has done something good. “You’re so sweet.”

“Daddy,” he says, and Bucky kisses the tears from his face. “Can I suck you?”

“You need something in your mouth now?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Poor baby. Soon. Okay, so let’s say you’re at your place and maybe I don’t see you Thursday or Friday. You don’t come from Wednesday night onwards and then you come to me on the Friday night. I’d strip you down, bring you right here and cuff you.” He points to the boltholes. “You’d be clipped in here. And we’ve got the padded half bench. Here. See it? I’m thinking a stress position will really break you down. Here, just get onto the bench. So you know. On your knees.”

“Bucky,” he pleads, tears filling his eyes. He doesn’t even know why. He glances down. He’s so wet now. It’s down to his balls and creeping lower. “You’re manipulating me.”

“Hush. I’m just showing you. Something for you to think about. Up you go,” he says, a little cold. Steve puts a knee on the half bench and then the other one.

“Beautiful. Good boy,” he says, patting Steve’s ass gently. Steve leaks and throbs at the treatment. He feels like an animal. Not an equal, that’s for sure. “Lean forward. Can you put your forearms on the wall?”

Steve leans forward, forearms on the wall. “Good boy,” Bucky says, touching him all over. “Daddy’s going to get something. I’m not leaving.” Bucky moves behind him, disappears and Steve shivers at the loss. Cold and alone. Bucky opens the trunk there. Steve can hear it but he’s trembling and can’t look. He has no idea if he’s going to come or flee.

“My goodness, just look at you,” Bucky says, chuckling. He’s dark. He wants to hurt Steve. Thank god. More tears slide down Steve’s face, more of that internal struggle not to run away.

“Daddy?”

“What, sweetheart?” He whispers, back again, touching him all over. He puts his own knee next to Steve’s so he can press the line of his body along Steve’s. His front against Steve’s back, just off to the side a little so Steve can lean into him, desperate, tries to kiss him. 

“Shh, you’re fine. Here’s proof, baby,” he says, and he pets Steve through his panties. “So hard and so wet. And your balls. Do they hurt?” He asks, solicitously. He kisses Steve’s cheek. His fingers tap at Steve’s balls and Steve flinches away from him.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers.

“It’s alright. I’ll help you,” his daddy says, and he takes Steve’s hands by the wrists, moving them closer together on the wall. Steve keeps his eyes closed. He can hear the links of the chain.

“Daddy, I… _Daddy_.”

The sound of the cuffs being clipped to the chain are like gunshots. Too loud in his ears and he makes a sound, twitching away. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” Bucky murmurs, metal hand on Steve’s hip, around his back so he doesn’t slip off the other side of the bench and away. Bucky kisses his jaw and his neck while Steve shakes and pants through it, trying to get himself together. “You’re lovely. So fucking beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off you. Can’t stop touching you. Nothing compares to you. You know that, don’t you? How hard you make me? How obsessive I feel about you? And now I’ve got you locked up in my room, don’t I babydoll? Jesus, I don’t know if I can let you go. Ever. Do people know where you are, sweetheart?”

“Bucky, stop. I’ll come.” No one knows where he is. Bucky might keep him. Chained up here to fuck when he wants, to use when the mood strikes him. That’s all he’ll be now.

Bucky goes still against him, just warm and breathing. A steady strength Steve presses into like he’s in the fucking snow in France again, huddled near a fire they shouldn’t have.

“Daddy,” he finally sobs.

“Green or red?”

It’s not that he doesn’t know. Of course, it’s green. It’s just that words are hard. Knowing what they mean and how to shape them and say them. He moans instead.

“Stevie?” Bucky orders, a hand on his neck.

“Green. Daddy. Keep me,” he whispers. “Don’t let me go. No one knows where I am. I swear.”

“Good boy,” Bucky chuckles, hand sliding between Steve’s cheeks, pressing hard against his hole, digging to get under the thong and press into his hole.

Steve comes. “I’m sorry!”

“That’s what happens with you, baby. You’re my good, slutty boy and that’s what you do when your perfect hole gets any attention. We know it.” 

“I didn’t mean to. Daddy. Help me.” He breathes raggedly and Bucky kisses him hard, hand in his hair, turning his head roughly, shoving it back.

“Help you? What do you need? A ring? A cage?” He bites at Steve’s lips. Too hard. And Steve goes limp. There’s no other choice.

“Need you. In me.” Bucky’s hand shoves into his panties, feeling how soaked with come he is.

He flinches, overly sensitive as Bucky slides his fingers carelessly against his cock. He scoops out come, gets it all over his fingers and stops kissing Steve. Stares into his eyes. Bucky’s hand raises. Steve risks a glance. So wet. Long strands of come on his fingers. He wipes it on Steve’s face, starting at his forehead and sliding down and across. Steve closes his eyes, gets a massive glob of come on his nose that he can feel sliding down. Then it’s across his lips.

“That’s pretty. So fucking pretty for me. Shit. I’ll have to fuck you now,” he says, sounding almost annoyed. He walks away from Steve, leaving him cold and bereft. His hands are clipped into the wall. He pulls. He could get free. Couldn’t he?

Bucky’s hard in his briefs. So hard. He gets the lube and lube shooter, comes back over, spreads Steve’s cheek and presses it into him. “Relax. I know, it’s cold. My messy slut. You’re so fucking sweet,” he says, pushing a finger into Steve roughly. Then two. Lube slips out and Bucky twists his fingers, wanting him well coated at his entrance. He pumps in and out, rough and messy. “I think that’s enough. Generous, really. You don’t mind if I don’t slick my cock, do you?”

“Thank you, thank you,” he murmurs and Bucky kisses his neck, sucks a mark into his skin.

“You like the burn, don’t you? Besides you’re soaked inside and out. You look so fucking good tied up on my wall. Do yourself a favor and push out. Make it easy on yourself and it’ll be nicer for you,” he says, fingers rubbing at Steve’s hole.

He wants to try not to push out. Maybe the opposite. Maybe clench. He squeezes just as Bucky rubs and presses and Steve gasps, throws his head back, accidentally hitting Bucky in the forehead.

Bucky laughs. “Ow. That was my own fault. You’ve completely fucked with my situational awareness. This is why we need you secured. What about a bit? Or a ball gag? I’ll clip it up there and you won’t be able to move your head like that anymore. I’ll be able to fuck you and not have you stop me.”

Steve shudders, panting and shaking. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you? Fuck, at least tell me you would, daddy.”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” he says, absently, the blunt head of his cock pressing at Steve’s hole. Steve moves his arms, needs to feel the constriction on his wrists, the pull of the chain. Bucky is hard and strong behind him.

“Daddy, daddy! I don’t know. Please, please, please—” He sounds hysterical. He can’t stop. “What do I want?”

Bucky laughs, puts a hand over Steve’s mouth and he yells into the palm of Bucky’s hand, as if that’s the permission he needed, presses his hips back, desperate to get pinned and fucked so he’ll calm down.

“Shh. My turn. I’ll fuck you hard and deep,” he says, not really a question. “Isn’t that what you need? You’re like a cat in heat, Steve. You know that, right? How am I supposed to resist you when you need a cock this bad? Scratching me up, taking a swipe at me when you don’t get it fast enough.”

“You don’t. You fucking don’t. Why won’t you then?”

“My goodness! Look what twelve hours of no dick makes of you. Babydoll, we better get you fixed up,” he says, and he wraps his arms up, over Steve’s shoulders, wanting to haul him down at the same time that he fucks up. It’s going to be brutal. Just carve him open.

“Oh my god. I can’t. I can’t, _daddy,_” Steve gasps, hiccups and tries to rub the side of his face against Bucky’s fingers.

“Shh, course you can. When I pull you’re going to let me, aren’t you? Relax those thighs and let me bring you down onto my cock?”

“I can’t. I _can’t_,” he sobs, even as he’s grinding down just a little. He needs Bucky’s big cock inside him. Wants it deep, but it’s also going to be so much. The desire and the fear make him breathless, twining together inside him.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Because that’s what I want. This is what you fucking earned, sweetheart.” Steve sobs hard, head pressed to his bent elbow. Bucky is pressing into him gently, breaching him, getting the head lodged at his entrance. He stops when the head is in. No escape. No twisting away, no keeping him out. Bucky waits while Steve sobs. His hole is stretched open, not used to the head of Bucky’s cock yet, throbbing and a taste of the pain to come. “Shh, I’m not going to do it until you give me your full attention. I’ll bet you five bucks you come from it.”

He shakes his head. That isn’t fair. Bucky kisses his neck. He can feel the tension behind him. His daddy’s cock twitches inside him. He clenches on it and Bucky grunts. He tries to squeeze more, but stops. Maybe he can’t do that. Squeeze tight as Bucky thrusts.

“Oh no, you greedy boy. You had yours already. And you’ll come this way, too, won’t you?”

“It’s too much.”

“Nonsense. Okay. You relax when I pull.”

“Daddy, daddy, no. _Daddy_.”

“You know what you say if you don’t want this. You either say red or I’ll make your hole red. That’s all there is, baby.”

“I’m not saying it,” Steve says.

“Why not?”

“I want it.” He tries to wipe his face on his arm. “Fuck. I do. You know I do.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, gently. He kisses Steve. “It’s a lot, though. You’re scared.”

Steve shivers hard. “Um, yeah. I think so. But… after, you’ll be all mine. And this will. The experience. Don’t stop.”

“I am all yours. You’re going to feel so good, you know that? This is going to make me come so hard. Nobody would ever take care of me as well as you do. My good boy. Always taking care of your daddy, aren’t you? So fucking good. The best boy,” he growls, hands tightening on Steve’s shoulder.

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers, takes a breath then another.

Bucky kisses his neck.

“I can do it.”

“Good boy. Good boy. Daddy is going to hurt you now. I’m going to come so hard in you then I’m going to be sweet to you. All day in bed together. My good boy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Bucky braces himself, fucks up hard, pulls down harder and his cock reams into him, slams deep. Steve feels the fullness before the pain. The muscles forced open. He collapses as the pain explodes inside him, burning up into his core. “Daddy!” He shouts and he does come. He comes and he milks Bucky’s cock and Bucky grinds deep, groaning and happy.

“God, you feel so fucking good. Shh, shh. What did I tell you? Sluts do what sluts do. You’re such a pain slut when it comes to this hole.” He gasps, clutching Steve tightly, trembling as he holds still inside him. Now he’s safe in his daddy’s arms. Supported in the cuffs, held up on his daddy’s cock and the arms around him.

“Drifting,” Steve mumbles.

“I know. You’re perfect,” he says, and Steve has a distant knowledge that Bucky’s hand is on his cock, stroking him.

“I did already,” he slurs, the pleasure trying to pull him back from the blissful agony inside him.

“I know. Have some more. You’re dripping already.” Steve grits his teeth as the pleasure courses through him, comes with a soft groan and then he’s gone. Bucky works inside him, pulsing and burning over and over again.

“Sh… sharp. And close.”

“Is that good?”

He whimpers and maybe nods. Bucky fucks him hard and fast, chasing his own pleasure, each thrust like a dense punch of pain in his guts. He grunts out a ‘thank you, daddy’ and Bucky speeds up, comes with another heavy thrust, pulling Steve deep down onto his cock, stabbing him. Steve doesn’t come. Well, he’s 90% sure he doesn’t come again. All of his weight is against Bucky, the strain on his shoulders waking him up, calling him back to the present.

“Oh,” he whimpers, sounding young and fragile. He clears his throat. “Bucky,” he says, a little better.

“Sweet boy. That felt so good. You feel so good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. I just don't think I can get it any better. Sorry friends. I kept hoping it would work itself out if I kept looking at it. I may have made it worse. IDK.


	23. Chapter 23

“I just….” he says, but has no words. He just doesn’t want to be as fragile as he feels. Needs a slight patina of strength and like he’s not weak and sluggish and hopelessly needy for Bucky right now. “Get me down, please. Daddy,” he says.

Bucky kisses his shoulder blade. Reaches forward, cock shifting inside Steve as he undoes the chain. “What about the cuffs?” Steve asks, and wants to take it back. He belongs to his daddy. They’re proof. He needs them on.

“Do you want the cuffs off?” Bucky asks, and Steve can’t place his tone.

_No._ “Sure,” he says, because he’s an idiot. It’s odd that he’s actually aware that he’s making shit worse and can’t stop. Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s wrists, presses them in against Steve’s chest, hugging him from behind. Steve’s breath is shaky. Fuck. He needs his daddy. Even though his dick is still buried in Steve’s ass and he’s holding him against his chest, he needs him. His daddy is here already. There is nothing else to do, no more to give. It isn’t Bucky’s fault that Steve is certifiable when he’s with him. Desperate and never satisfied.

“I don’t mean it. I want the cuffs. I’m just… _daddy_.” Steve bites his lower lip because it wobbles. His next breath is horrible and wet sounding. “Don’t let me fuck it up. I hurt you.”

“I won’t. I’ve got you. Cuffs stay on. You’re staying with daddy. You didn’t hurt me, sweetheart.” Bucky kisses him all over, holds him tight. “I’m gonna pull out, sweetheart,” he says, and Steve tries not to cry. 

“Daddy, I need you. I said I was sorry!” He sobs hard and Bucky slips out, the mess spills out of him.

“Where’s my plug?” Steve demands, shoving back into Bucky, trying uselessly to clench and keep his daddy’s come. His hole burns and it leaks out. “Jesus. I lost it. I fucking lost it all and I didn’t mean to—”

“Easy. Stevie. Into bed.”

He can barely feel the pain in his ass. It’s nothing compared to everything else. He scratched his daddy. “It’s a mess. What a fucking mess,” Steve says, trying to pull away from Bucky. He needs to see it. What all he just lost. There’s drips on the floor and his fucking panties are sopped. There’s drips on his thighs where he’s leaked through. Everything is come and about come. He tries to turn and steps in it. “What do I do?”

“Get into bed.”

“_How_? It’s _everywhere_. I have to….” Fuck, he’s got to wash it off.He’ll have to use soap. It’s going to be all gone. He’s stuck with his own come in those stupid fucking panties. Nothing of daddy. He shoves them down. They slip down his thighs and land with a sound, the slightest plop because he’s made such a damned mess of them.

“Get the fuck into bed or I’ll wear a condom next time. Obey me. You need to be settled.”

Steve goes. Ashamed and desperate. “I can’t even feel it. And now it’s gone. I’m not being crazy. Don’t look at me like that,” he drags in a breath. His chest hurts like he’s going to have an asthma attack. “Daddy, I hurt you.”

Steve gets into bed, Bucky crowding him until he lays down. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to my closet and back. That’s all. Listen to me. Your time with me isn’t over. You’re mine until Monday morning. Do you understand? You can’t leave. You can’t walk away. We’re not taking off the cuffs. This is it for you. You didn’t hurt me. And even if you did, you’re still mine. Always.”

Steve turns away from him, burrows into the bedding, pulls Bucky’s shirt out from under the pillow and cries into it. Bucky leaves him there and then comes back. “Give me your wrists,” he orders and Steve offers them, grateful. He feels sick with it. Bucky clips him together again, securing him to the headboard.

“I’m going to plug you. It’s big. Do you want to see it first?”

“No, daddy. Just do it,” he whispers.

Bucky sighs. He hears the lube cap snick. Gets a glob on his hole and the toy presses at him. It slides into him and he welcomes it, tilting back, wanting to be receptive. It gets wider. Steve grips the shirt and shudders. Bucky is slow but relentless and it widens rapidly. He can already tell it’s going to be heavy inside him.

“Daddy?”

“You’re doing so good.” He milks it, can’t stop himself. He groans and breathes, tries to stop the spasming inside, his body protesting. Bucky pauses. Puts his fingers gently against Steve’s rim. “I feel you, sweetheart. We’ll wait. You’re daddy’s and this is what I want for you. You’re my good boy. You’re going to feel so good, Steve. Safe.”

“Are you going to stop?” He asks, terrified Bucky will say yes. “Maybe I’m not worth it.”

“Good boy. I won’t stop. You’re mine. You’ll take it all and then you’ll feel better. I don’t mind the struggle. I can handle you when it’s difficult.”

“What if it’s too hard and you walk away?”

“I won’t. Push out, I want this seated in you now,” He says, and presses hard. It stings as he widens around the biggest bit. And then it’s in and Steve has no idea what he’s supposed to do now. He can’t even move. “Perfect. That looks incredible. Does it feel good?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. He really doesn’t. It demands all of his attention. It’s making him throb and clench. Bucky goes to the other side of the bed and gets in. He moves close. Steve knows he’s eyeing him desperately. “What time is it?” Steve asks.

Bucky reaches for his phone and check. “11 am.”

Steve counts how many hours that is until Monday minus sleep. “At least 12,” he says. Comforted and then not, because twelve hours left with his daddy isn’t all that much in the scheme of things.

“That’s right, good boy. At least twelve more hours with your daddy.” Bucky reaches for his cuffs, unclipping him from the frame.

“Daddy?”

“Over me. Lay on me.”

He moves eagerly and then whimpers at the plug buried inside him. He’s careful, gets his daddy’s hand on his face, stroking his cheek as he moves over him. He straddles him and sobs, stays in the air, caging Bucky in, staring down at him. How many times has he been over Sharon, looking down at her, anxious about whether or not he’d make her happy.

“Daddy?”

“Down.” Bucky orders.

“I’m heavy.”

“I don’t fucking care.” Bucky reaches up, grabs him by the collar. Steve lowers himself, cock sticky as it touches Bucky’s. His daddy is so warm and strong. Bucky moves carefully, getting Steve’s wrists clipped behind his back. Steve exhales, overwhelmed with relief. He’s here. His daddy has him. He’s doing this right and he can’t go anywhere else. His ass is so full. His daddy knows what he needs.

‘Thank you.”

“There. This is where you’re staying. On top of your daddy. You can kiss me as much as you want. I’ll touch you as much as you want.”

Steve lifts his head, offers his mouth and Bucky kisses him for long moments, tongue in his mouth. “Good boy. Do you like vibrators?”

He nods. He bought one once. Had to throw it away.

“That’s what I figured. Here’s the remote. I can turn it off. You can say red if it gets to be too much. Or yellow if you’re getting close to red. You are allowed to come. You are allowed to struggle and kiss me and I’ll hold onto you. You can rut against my stomach as much as you want to.”

“Daddy?”

“I want three. You come three times and then we’ll take a break. We might stop if you’re really inconsolable. You need a fucking nap. You’re cranky and emotional and you’re going to come it out like my good boy and have a rest.”

Steve shakes his head. There’s a lump in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t do that. Be treated like a child that’s going to be put to bed in the middle of the day. “You’ll work it out and feel better. Sometimes, good boys need to get it all out, too. It’s okay,” Bucky says, all sympathy. He looks at Steve fondly. Kisses his nose and then licks his own lips. “I like your come. I can still taste it. Go ahead and get daddy messy. Ready?”

“No, because I don’t—” Bucky clicks it on. Steve goes quiet. And slack, breathes. Oh god, he’s going to come. He can already feel it. He turns his head to the side and pants. He can’t even pretend to fight against it. It isn’t going to take long. It’s building inside him. He grinds gently against Bucky’s stomach.

“That’s right. So good, sweetheart. Go ahead. This one is going to be easy, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and comes. Bucky clicks it off as Steve comes, pressing into his stomach.

He shifts just a little. Lifts his head and kisses Bucky’s chest.

“Did that feel good?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, nuzzling him.

“Tell me when you’re ready.” Bucky cups Steve’s face in his hands, lifting his head, pressing kisses to his soft lips. “So good. So pretty. You’re just so adorable when you come. Your cheeks are all pink now and your lips get so red. My pretty little slut.” Steve can feel how pleased Bucky is with him.

“Good. Daddy.”

“You think you might cry after the next one?” he asks, “More tears for daddy?” 

“Fuck, probably,” he says, less happy about that.

“Good boy. Your tears make me hard. You should be happy you cry so much for me.”

Well, there’s that, he thinks. Bucky turns it back on. Steve wiggles on his daddy, getting comfortable. “Is it higher?”

“No. It’s the same.”

Steve grunts.

Bucky’s hands slide into his hair, press into his scalp, rubbing firmly. “Beautiful boy. Come for your daddy. You can come whenever you want. And you’ll ride this next one out. Do you understand? I won’t turn it off. You’ll keep going until you come again. It will be sharp, baby. But, I’m here. I’ll hold you. So good for me. You want to give me that?”

He nods and grinds. “Closer, daddy.”

“Good boy. Get after it. Make that orgasm happen. Come for me. Come on now. Work for it, sweetheart.”

“Shit. It’s… big, daddy. In my hole.”

“I know,” he says, all faux sympathy. It makes Steve tremble, ratchets up the unpleasant jangle of his desire.

“Fuck. Daddy.”

“There you go. Getting close, babydoll? Show daddy your face when you come.”

“G… god. Can’t. Fuck, can’t. Hurts now. I’m going to come,” he says, and his whole body is tensed in horrible anticipation. He doesn’t even breathe.

Bucky lifts Steve’s head with a fist in his hair. Steve opens his eyes. Bucky is watching him avidly. “Don’t fight it.”

“Not. It just… it isn’t.” Fuck. He wants it to happen already.

“Work for it then.”

He tries, mewling as he rubs through the come, the sensitivity too much. It’s not even a proper thrust. He stops almost immediately. “Daddy. Daddy, I can’t. It won’t.”

“It will. Be patient. Be open. Expect it. Welcome it. You’ll get it. You’re my good boy. My filthy little come slut and you’ll come on that great big cock in your hole because that’s who you are for me. That’s all daddy needs you to be right now.”

He sobs.

“What are you?”

“Yours,” he says.

“You’re more than that. What are you?”

“Filthy… Comeslut. Come… slut.”

“That’s right. That’s so good,” he croons.

Steve cries out. He comes and it’s awful. “Stop. Daddy. _Daddy_. Oh my god. Oh my… hurts, daddy.”

Bucky kisses him, wet and while Steve is just trying to breathe. His nose is stuffed with tears now and he’s shaking hard in Bucky’s arms. He’s sweating. The covers are too hot. Bucky reaches between them, scoops up come and smears it on Steve’s lips, into his mouth. He kisses him again, sucking it off, swallowing it down. A wet, slimy smear of it is taken from Steve’s lip and pressed into Steve’s mouth.

“How’s that?”

“Please,” Steve whispers.

It hurts. It’s just pain. Just solid pain in his hole and his balls and his cock. He can’t escape it. Can’t drift away and he isn’t sure why. “Hot. Too hot. Can’t come if it’s too hot,” he says.

Bucky throws the covers back and it’s such a relief. They’re stuck together with come and sweat.

“One more.”

“Oh, fuck,” he says. The pain is settling down just a little and he breathes more easily, relaxes just a little.

“There you go. That’s right. You’ve got time.”

“Numb.”

“I bet. It’s not going to be easy.”

“You… help me?”

“Of course I will. And I’m hard now. Feel that?” He asks, grinding his cock against Steve’s balls. Steve flinches.

“What are you… daddy. What will you do?” He hauls in more air.

“I’ll probably come in your ass. We’ll see how much you need the plug. I could come in your mouth, too. What do you think? Which would you like?”

He jerks against the cuffs. Tries to sit up a little. Bucky’s hand is cold and hard on the back of his neck. “You’re where I want you. Stay.”

He pulls again at the cuffs. He tries to clench on the plug. There’s a weird moment of clarity. Where he can think about everything else. How sweaty he is, the stink rising off the pair of them, which Steve wants to just fucking live in, how wet he is with all the come between them and how big and stretched he feels. He lifts his head. Bucky kisses him. “I’m good, daddy.” He feels Bucky smile against his mouth.

“You are. You’re so good.”

“Want your come in my stomach, daddy.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, kissing him again.

“Daddy?”

“What?”

“I need the plug. Keep it in. Please?”

“Of course. Good boy.”

Steve closes his eyes for a moment. He goes stiff and squeezes inside, tries to breathe through the changing sensation. “Fuck.”

“I feel you getting hard again. You actually went soft. Did you know that?”

He huffs and thrusts against Bucky’s stomach, unable to resist. “No. I… when?”

“As soon as the second one was over. You lost time there. Did you know?”

“No, I didn’t.” Did he? “Unnnhhh. Can I…. It doesn’t have to come out? But, my cock, it’s too much. Let me just,” Steve pushes his hips up, can’t wait for permission. 

“No, I don’t like that. Grind it out on my stomach. Don’t make me shove you down.”

“Oh,” he says, tremulously. It gives way to a sob. He goes back down and sobs at the contact. It hurts. “Daddy?”

“There’s my good boy. My soft boy. So good. So very good.”

It hurts. It’s awful. He’s crying and his daddy is everything. “I can’t come. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“You will or the battery will die. It’s one or the other.”

“How long would that be?”

Bucky laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. You’re going to come,” he says, as if it’s a guarantee.

“I won’t. I can’t. It’s not good.” He tries to press closer, face and chest harder into Bucky’s. Bucky holds him close, kisses his head.

Steve groans, unable to hold it in, some amount of time later. He’s so numb and he’s aching everywhere. He twitches his hips. It stings.

“There you go,” Bucky says, smug and hard against him. As if he knows.

“No, I’m not. I won’t. Want it off.”

“Shh,” Bucky says, petting his back. He’s so calm and patient under Steve. Steve bites his lip. Then he twitches again. Cock rubbing in come. He groans at the agony.

“Good boy.”

He wants to protest. The burning buzz builds again, forcing him to thrust and even grind and it’s awful. He fucking hates it. He growls, turns his head, thinks about biting Bucky’s chest.

“I’m gonna need you to rut through it,” Bucky murmurs, hand suddenly hard and tight in Steve’s hair. “For me. For your daddy. Will you hurt for me, sweetheart?”

He can hear the grating sound of his own breaths. Harsh and wrecked. “Daddy,” he says. Quietly. Pleading maybe.

“I know. I know. You make me so happy. You know it, don’t you?”

He nods. Weirdly enough, he does. This is _a lot_. He’s fucking incredible to give this to his daddy. “I’m good.”

“You’re better than good.”

“Daddy, it hurts,” he says, having to thrust again. “Shit. _Shit_,” he growls, rutting up hard. That steals his breath. Torture.

“Good. So fucking good. Do it again. Perfect boy. Aren’t you? Aren’t’ you fucking _perfect_?”

Steve obeys, moves his hips, rutting, says what he’s supposed to say. The pain grows, morphs into something profoundly loud inside him. “I’m perfect. Perfect, daddy. Perfect,” he says, over and over and stops rutting, strung out on some horrible edge. “No, daddy. Don’t wanna,” he gasps.

That’s not his voice, he realizes. It hasn’t been for awhile. It’s that pathetic, needy, high voice he gets sometimes… too much when he’s with Bucky. It’s annoying and must make Bucky cringe. He clears his throat. He’s going to say something. What? _What? _Where are the words now that he’s got to think about them? “Fuck, god damnit that hurts. Jesus, I can’t want this. Bucky,” he groans, deeply.

He sounded like himself. Like Captain America maybe. He shuts down, goes inwards as he struggles with the pain, keeps it all for himself, scared of what he’ll say, how he’ll sound if he opens his mouth. He loves his daddy. He wants to be good enough. Steve swallows that down, too. 

“Where’s my good boy? You’re alright, babydoll. Give it to me. Then you get my come. Then it’s over. Perfect boy.”

Steve whimpers, begging, frozen as he struggles to come or not come or just survive. He comes with a horrible shout, flinching and struggling, Bucky holding him still. It’s like he’s being stabbed, like he’s dying. ‘Good boy. Good boy,” Bucky is saying. The vibrator turns off. He’s clenching and releasing. Everything inside him. He’s boneless and weak. Sobbing. Bucky is panting and hard under him.

“So good. So fucking incredible,” he moans, legs wrapping up, around Steve’s waist, rutting into Steve’s stomach. Each thrust is a nightmare and Steve whimpers through it. The heel of Bucky’s foot finds the plug, presses and Steve is right back to where he was, small and needy.

“Please, come. Please, daddy. Please?” Bucky ruts against him, hard cock sliding in the mess between them, cock bumping Steve’s painfully so that Steve feels strung out, attention focused on each minute move his daddy makes, because his daddy’s pleasure has consequences.

“I have to come. Why? Why, Steve?” He growls, heel digging. Steve shouts and thrusts, instinct and a horrible mistake. Bucky laughs.

“Because I’m perfect. _Perfect_, daddy.”

“Get the fuck over,” he growls and shoves. Steve goes, bonelessly moving to the bed, skin tacky and unpleasant. Bucky shoves him to his back. The plug presses deeper. Bucky is over him instantly, snarling and he ruts hard against Steve’s stomach. He tries to kiss Steve’s mouth but is impatient and he bites at his jaw instead, moves down his neck, hand hard on Steve’s face as he shoves his head and bares Steve’s neck. He mouths and latches, hard, bruising and comes with a groan, grinding down hard into Steve. Steve’s shoulders take the brunt of it, arms trapped behind him.

That’s a different kind of pain. Careless. An unintended pain that just happened because his daddy was using him and lost to Steve’s comfort. “Daddy. Good daddy,” he says, “kiss me.”

Bucky makes a sound and sluggishly lifts his head, kissing Steve heavy and slow. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

“I do, actually,” he says, kissing a smile onto Bucky’s face.

“How come? I’m glad you know. Tell me.”

“Because my arms are about to pop out of their sockets and you’re so fucked out you don’t even know. I made you lose your damned mind.”

“Shit!” Bucky says, shoving off of him. Steve turns and Bucky undoes the cuffs. Steve groans in relief as he brings his arms forward. “Poor baby. Shit, are you okay?”

Steve blinks blearily at him “Mm-hm.”

Bucky laughs. Just laughs and kisses his face all over. Steve grins. He doesn’t know why. He still fucking hurts. He’s pretty sure that goes against the Geneva Convention and yet. He wipes up come from his own stomach and paints it on Steve’s lips.

Steve swallows,“That’s fucking disgusting.”

Bucky’s fingers press into his mouth again and again, feeding him their come. “You mean, thank you, daddy.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Let me clean you up,” Bucky finally says. Steve’s stomach is tacky, drying. All that come is in his stomach. He comes back to himself a little.

“Daddy,” He slips his hand under the pillow, pulls out the shirt.

Bucky makes a pleased sound, wipes their stomachs and moves off of him, taking the filthy shirt with him.

“Wait,” Steve manages. 

“What is it?” Bucky asks, sounding amused as he looks down at Steve. Steve has no fucking idea. There’s a sigh. “Sweetheart, you’re fucking out of it. I’ll be right back.”

“No. _Wait_.” He opens his eyes, squints against the brightness. He lifts his hand, well, it gets an inch off the bed. “Shirt. That’s mine.”

“It’s going to be a biohazard, greedy thing.” Steve flips him off. It’s all he’s got. The shirt hits him in the face. Steve turns on his side, snuggles into the shirt and his daddy comes back, wipes at his stomach and gives him more praise and kisses. He gets into bed, tucking up close to Steve and they both get a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's ramble, irrelevant to the story and skippable:
> 
> Thank you for the feedback re last chapter. I'd had a slight crisis several days ago where I realized the comments had dropped off significantly and thought that was probably bc they'd finally had sex and the lack of thirst for the story was because everyone's already had the drink and the refill. that's just the life of a story. They end and you don't want to drag it out, you want to get out on a high note (Seinfeld). The number of stories I've wandered away from once they have sex is too many to count so I was cool with that. 
> 
> that wasn't the crisis. the crisis was that then I thought, what if it was too rough when the sex happened and that's why people wandered away? And that was a creative killer bc the story that's left is basically darker. Like, it's not going to get nicer or something. it's exploring their dynamic and limits and they both don't really want any. 
> 
> So I had started fucking around with the last chapter and trying to tone it down bc I was like that's some rough sex yo and maybe that's not what's wanted. Like, Steve was a virgin 40k ago. So I edited it and rewrote and rewrote and I hated it. I wound up posting something closer to the original version because I spent so long trying to make it nicer that it was just awful (I always make a copy of the original scene now when I know I'm going to tear into it bc half the time I'm wrong and want to go back.) 
> 
> And, I didn't want to directly ask if people thought it was too hardcore bc I didn't want people to say yes or have that be the frame to evaluate it as I do actually want to keep writing the story but only if it's this s/m like. That's why I said 'it's not working and I can't get it better.' 
> 
> So, to my hardcore, amazing commenters who were lovely enough to respond and say they thought it was super hot and darker was good-- THANK YOU. We can continue now. If people had said, 'the tone changed and this scene was too much' it would have been a sign to wrap it up bc I can't write it 'nicer.'
> 
> But, now that I know there are still a few people left who are like 'yeah, it got darker and that was hot'-- omg. thank you. honestly. we will have an HEA of course but this is basically their idea of romance so if you do think it's too dark and you were being kind enough to not say, then I'm sorry as this is how it will continue. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the long explanation, I just didn't want to have to repeat it to every perverted saint who commented. 
> 
> As a further note, that is even less relevant, the stores near me are now out of butter, cream cheese, etc but there are lots of eggs. It's funny how it seems to cycle through things. Whole Paycheck had toilet paper!


	24. Chapter 24

The rest of the day is heaven. They nap for an hour and then Bucky gets him into the shower, cleans his hole and murmurs to him about how sweet he is while Steve gets to have his arms around his daddy’s neck and whimper against his skin.

“Poor babydoll. Is it hot?”

Steve nods against him.

“Feels swollen. I was too rough. Got careless, didn’t I? Took too much from you. I’m sorry.”

“Loved it,” he says, and Bucky’s fingers rest against his aching hole.

“Good boy. You’re still open, stretched out for daddy. That plug was mean, wasn’t it?”

“The plug is my frenemy.”

Bucky laughs. They get out of the shower and Bucky dries him, takes him to the couch and gets him laying down so he can watch tv and not put pressure on his bottom yet. He looks up at him pathetically. Bucky touches his bottom lip and Steve tries to stop pouting. “I’ll get you something to eat and drink and then we’ll cuddle.”

“Are you really going to put me in a cage?”

Bucky’s brows raise in surprise. “What do you think?”

“I think you are.”

Bucky laughs, apparently delighted. “No, I mean, do you think I should?” Bucky asks, brushing Steve’s hair off his forehead. He squats down so he can touch Steve easier. Steve closes his eyes and enjoys the simple touch.

“You should do whatever you want,” he finally says, lulled by the touch. “I used to imagine it with Sharon. That she’d want me locked away for not doing it right. Punishment. Put away because I didn’t please her. And maybe I’d be so happy to get out of it that I’d be really hard and aggressive. Because, she’d have liked that.”

“I think if we put you in a cage, you will not be _aggressive_,” he says, like he’s telling Steve the world is round.

Steve snorts. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“How do you think you’ll be?” Bucky asks him, curious.

“How come you don’t respond when I say stuff about Sharon?”

Bucky blinks at him. “Don’t I?”

“Like just now. If I mention her you don’t react or comment half the time.”

“What should I say?”

Steve rolls his eyes. _That’s_ annoying.

“Well, _doctor_. You should give me an answer and not try to throw it back at me like a therapist. I’m asking my _boyfriend_.”

“Oh.” Bucky licks his lips, sits on the couch. “Boyfriend answer,” he murmurs. “Your relationship with Sharon was shit. Like a horror movie about sex. I don’t know which of you was the idiot going into the basement when it was clear there were only bad things down there, but it was _that_ kind of a shitshow. As part of the audience for your horror movie relationship, I wanted to throw popcorn at the screen and shout ‘don’t go back into that vagina! Or something.’”

“Maybe I like the therapist better.”

Bucky shrugs. “And, it’s only just ended. You’re mine now and I don’t like thinking about how unhappy you were with her. Maybe that’s not fair. I can see how you would want to talk about it. And, I can do that. It just feels like what you had with Sharon was such a lie and this is where you belong… why look back? But, I’m not unhappy to talk about it. Not really.”

“Yeah, I know I can talk about it. Although, your metaphor is fucking annoying. I was just wondering I guess. The idea of being caged seemed like a relief with Sharon. I say I thought about it, but I guess I fantasized about it. Like a miserable fantasy.”

“Did you have one?”

“For a hot minute.” Steve chews his lip and then buts his head against Bucky’s hand to get more attention. “I didn’t even put it on, though. It came in the mail. I took it out, looked at it.” He laughs, but it’s more at himself, so it’s awkward, “I put it on the counter and it was like looking at an alien artifact or something. Just stared at it.”

“And then what?” Bucky finally asks.

“Nothing. I threw it away.”

“Do you ever think that if some homeless person went through your trash they’d be shocked at how many toys you threw away?”

“No. I have never thought about that. But, if a gay homeless person went through my trash, they would have been very happy. So many unused sex toys. I can tell you I’ve spent a stupid amount of _money_ on sex toys. I’ve thought about that.”

“Did you come? Did the idea of the cage make you hard?”

“No,” he says, slowly. “It wasn’t about that. And it was never going to happen. I was self-aware enough to know that if my biggest fantasy involving my girlfriend was her locking me up so I didn’t have to have sex with her, then we had a problem.”

“So, when you’ve thought of a cage before it’s a way to create distance?”

“Yes,” Steve says, slowly.

“Does that mean you want to put it on your list of limits? Even a hard limit? Which doesn’t have to be permanent,” he says.

“I know I can change my mind. Um, I don’t know. How much do you want to do it? Well, you really want to do it,” he says, answering his own question. “I guess it depends upon how it’s done. I don’t want to fail you like I failed Sharon. And if you said you were locking me away because I couldn’t satisfy you or something, that would be awful.” It’s so awful that just saying it makes him feel sick.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t say that. It’s not true and it’s just cruel. There’s humiliation and then there’s degradation. You like humiliation, I don’t think you like degradation. And I don’t like it. Put it on my limits, how’s that?”

“Yes. Good. What else is on your limits, daddy?” He asks, looking up at him. Much better to talk about Bucky’s limits for a change.

“Everything you mentioned before is a good start, with the exception of pet play.”

“You’re kidding,” Steve says, flatly.

“No. You know there’s a cafe we could go to where they have ‘bring your human animal’ night. You could sit on the ground and rest at my feet. I’d play with your hair. Give you treats. You could wear a plug that’s a tail. You could sit there, and if you brushed up against me I could pet the whole line of your back including your tail.”

“What kind of animal would you want me to be?” He asks, uncertainty. That’s not fair. How does he know that’s something that sounds so fucking hot?

“That’s your choice. You decide what fits your personality. It’s not that I particularly want you to do it, I was just surprised you dismissed it so quickly.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d get affection. It’s care taking. Ownership. You get a leash. And you’d wear your collar.” 

“Huh. I don’t know.” It’s a very weird, bizarre fetish at first thought, but Bucky makes some good points. He needs to think about it later when he’s on his own. “What else is on your limits?”

Bucky sighs. “Degradation I guess. Sharing, switching, vanilla sex, comments about vanilla sex—”

Steve laughs, interrupting him. “Vanilla sex is on your list of hard limits?”

“Well, maybe not hard limits, it just doesn’t seem like something worth spending time on.” Bucky frowns, “Actually, I take that back. Maybe it is on my list of hard limits. I don’t like the idea of us putting sex into categories like that. And you submitting and me controlling you and hurting you are so fundamental to us that it seems like that would be an intentional and lesser choice. And, I don’t want lesser with you, I want everything. Which is very not vanilla. I’m more interested in how intense and personal it can get. I want things from you that you didn’t know you wanted. Or to make you like things you didn’t think you’d like.”

“I’m not disagreeing… I don’t think, but you don’t ever want… softer?”

“Is that vanilla? I think of vanilla as you’re my versatile boyfriend and I call you babe. The moment anything actually meaningful happens between us, then it isn’t vanilla. Like you calling me daddy or me threatening to kidnap you… in a _loving_ way. That’s not vanilla.”

“I hate to say it, but you kind of sound like you look down on vanilla people. I think you’re prejudiced,” Steve says, with a straight face.

“I do. I am,” he says, seriously.

“That’s… something,” Steve says. Because he’s not really thought about it either way and while Steve thinks it’s a bit amusing that his perfect boyfriend kind of hates something so bland, it’s a bit odd. Bucky doesn’t sound like he’s joking. He’s almost defensive about it. 

“I think vanilla is the lie people tell themselves. It’s the things they should do and what they think everyone else is doing to be Mike Pence approved. My marriage was vanilla. Your relationship was vanilla.”

“Yeah, but lots of people like that.”

“I think their browser histories would beg to differ.”

“Well… you know, we did have missionary sex when you took my virginity and treated me like your bride.”

“That was fucking hot. That was not vanilla. God, you cried so sweet on my cock, babydoll,” Bucky says, and he touches Steve’s bottom lip. Steve’s stomach gets the butterflies-trying-to-escape feeling and he clenches his ass, gets a pinch of discomfort and an increased throb. If Bucky fucked him now…. Steve pulls Bucky’s t-shirt over his face. It smells like come and Bucky, and isn’t helpful for him not getting brutally fucked. Even if Bucky was nice and crazy gentle it would be brutal.

“Jesus. I’m never going to get food. Don’t even look at me,” Steve says.

“Why, are you getting hard?”

“Fuck. I’m serious. I’m hungry. You said you’d feed me. You’re my daddy.”

“I’m your vanilla daddy. God, I don’t know how or when but man is that going to come back one of these days, sweetheart. I’m gonna make vanilla sex into your worst nightmare.” He kisses Steve on the nose.

“I’m scared _and_ turned on. But, you can’t like, have sex with me while wearing a Mike Pence mask or something.”

“There you go. Another mutual hard limit. Clever Stevie. Let me get you food,” He says, and kisses Steve again. He gets up, his smile is evil.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I can’t believe you sound surprised. Also, fair warning, that’s the kind of thing that makes me want to pull you over my lap and spank the hell out of you.”

“You don’t spank me for being naughty,” Steve says, pleased with himself. 

“Not your ass.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Steve breathes. Thank god he’s lying down. He’s a little dizzy at the possibilities and how terrifying they are. “You can’t spank my cock. That goes on my limit list.”

Bucky laughs at him. “No, it doesn’t. That’s not how it works.”

“It does. You’re not an expert. I don’t want you to spank my cock.”

Bucky is now in the kitchen and doesn’t even answer. Cock spanking. For being naughty. Is that like the head or the shaft? “Would you use the metal hand?” Steve asks, voice loud enough to be heard.

“You’re such a slut.” Bucky says, loudly. It’s true but unhelpful. He’s hard now. Shocker. He lays Bucky’s shirt out in front of him, running his hand over it idly. His hole hurts a hell of a lot. The vibrator, the stretch, the rough fucking….

Steve touches his hole through his panties. Pink panties. Blush pink and Bucky had said they matched his nipples. Which, whatever. It’s ridiculous but Bucky had been pretty pleased about it. His hole _hurts_. On a scale of 1 to 10 this is a 6 but they’re not even doing anything at the moment. And he’s been hurting for a bit now so it’s sort of wearing him down a little. The pain feels bigger than it is.

He bites back a sound, head on the pillow, face buried in Bucky’s t-shirt. He just rests his fingers on his hole, then tries to brush against it softly, but the fabric is tight and he has to press a little hard just to get in there. He tries to brush his fingernail against the swollen skin and has to stop and breathe. It stings. There was fabric in the way so he’d thought it’d be okay.

He pants quietly. His eyes fill with tears at the sting. Which is dumb. He gets thrown off buildings and walks it off. This is fine. His daddy did this to him.

He can hear Bucky in the kitchen, chopping something up. He goes lower, starts at his perineum and skates his fingers back, pressing firmly so he can feel the transition, where _exactly_ the swelling starts. How close to his hole he can get before it hurts. The pain is instantaneous. One moment there’s nothing and the next is a hot sting. “Oh,” he gasps, quietly and freezes. There’s more chopping, Bucky didn’t hear him.

It’s a relief. Bucky would get the wrong idea. He isn’t touching himself to get off or because it feels good. It’s the opposite. He’s exploring the edges of his misery. Even though he is hard (god knows why), it’s irrelevant. The front of his panties being wet isn’t the point. This is a private thing. It’s much too perverse.

Maybe if he approaches it from the side, he thinks, and takes Bucky’s shirt into his mouth, turns so he can get his face into the couch cushions. It makes everything hot, stifled and safe. His breathing picks up, has to, just to get air into his lungs. His hand presses, but the material stops him. Too tight. He doesn’t want to press hard and just burn, he wants to be soft. He needs to know if he can feel the sting before he’s even touched himself. If the heat of his hand hovering over the abused flesh is enough to make it hurt.

He adjusts the leg of the panties, running a finger under it so the fabric cuts higher over his ass, the fabric looser. He puts his hand back and it slides between his cheeks. The fabric presses against his burning flesh. Fuck he’s so swollen. He throbs the whole length of his ass this way. That’s how it feels. From his pinky to his wrist where it’s resting against him. He sobs and squeezes against it, clenching against his hand. It’s enough to make him cry out. He shoves the sound into the pillow, sucks the shirt and tries to calm down.

A heavy metal hand on the back of his head, flesh hand on Steve’s wrist so he keeps his hand against his hole. He’s pinned to the couch, Bucky looming above him.

His daddy knows. He sobs.

“What’s my good boy doing?”

“Daddy?”

“Keep going, sweetheart. You play while I watch.”

“No, I wasn’t… it _hurts_. I’m not trying to come.”

“I understand. Your daddy loved on you a lot. Used you so hard, didn’t he? Soothe yourself, sweetheart. Beautiful boy. Can you show me?” He kisses Steve’s jaw, the bolt of it, the only part of him that isn’t currently shoved into the couch cushions. And that’s just so he can talk. His finger rubs over Steve’s wrist.

“I’ll sit here and watch you while you finish up. We’ll look at it together.”

“I’m…. I’m done, daddy.”

“Well, I’ve got my watch and I’m going to time you. And I’ll lick you out for as long as you play. You want daddy’s tongue back there for half an hour? You can get it, sweetheart.”

“But, it wasn’t to come. I was just… curious.”

“I know. Those are your marks, sweetheart. It’s not like a beating where you can look in the mirror and touch them all week as they change color. You’ll be better in no time, all gone. That’s where your daddy hurt you. Of course you want to feel it a bit.”

“Oh,” he says, tremulously. It isn’t fair that the hurt will go away so quickly.

“So, go ahead and show daddy how much you like the hurt. How important it is to you. Learn the shape and the feel of how daddy hurt you.“ He pets Steve’s hair. “Good boy.”

He sits back on the coffee table, hands leaving Steve. Steve hears the click of a watch.

“Go ahead. You like it through the fabric? Does the silk feel good?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers, scared and so small. His daddy is here to keep him safe. To tell him it’s alright.

“Where does it start, good boy? Find the beginning.”

He traces up his crack with one finger and stops when it twinges. He clenches and has to let go. Pants into the couch for a moment.

“Beautiful. Where does it end?”

He skips over the hole completely, starts at the top band of his panties and goes down carefully. He stops with a whimper again. The sting. Doesn’t clench.

“And where do you need kisses the most?”

He sobs, fingers hover. The fabric hurts too much. He wants to show his daddy. Touch himself for thirty minutes and get kisses for a reward but it’s just so difficult.

“Shh, good boy. Okay.” Bucky is suddenly touching him again, fingers on Steve’s hip as he drags the panties down Steve’s thighs. He shifts to let him and even that hurts. “Bury your face, suck on daddy’s shirt.”

He parts Steve’s cheek, fingers of one hand keeping him exposed. Even that hurts. He presses into the softness, knows his daddy is getting his cock out. “Fuck, Steve.” He’s over Steve, looking down at him. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he says, stroking himself as he stares at Steve’s hole. “I’m going to come on your hole, give you some medicine for you to stew in, and then I’m going to get a nice cool cloth and I’m going to wipe up your hole after you’ve had lunch.”

Steve cries out into the pillow. “Daddy!”

“Steve. Angel. You’re so fucking sore and red, baby. Daddy really hurt you. God, I fucking _wrecked_ you. Did you love it?”

“I did.”

“Daddy. _Say it_.” His teeth are gritted.

“Yes, daddy. I loved it. That you wrecked my hole and it hurts so much I can’t even touch it,” Steve says. And yes, he does love it, and it is amazing, but Bucky is clearly jerking off to the sight of his hole, swollen and fucked out, and that’s something different. That’s so good he might come at the very idea of it.

Look how much he’s made his daddy want him.

“You’re going to make me drip, sweetheart,” he says, laugh turning into a groan. “Don’t move. I’m going to touch you. Just get a little bit of pre-come on you. A dab of medicine because you’re just hurting, aren’t you?”

“Daddy,” he breathes, heart pounding in fear. What if Bucky fucks him? Just has to?

“Hold still. Gentle now.”

Hid daddy’s weight is on him, the brush of his pants on Steve’s thigh and then there’s the faint touch of his cock to Steve’s burning hole and Steve turns his head, stares at his daddy, the hard set of his mouth, how blown wide his pupils are.

“Fuck me?”

“No.”

“Daddy.”

“I think you’d bleed.”

Steve turns his face into the pillow. His daddy moves his cock away and he can’t feel if there’s slick on him, a dot of come. It all hurts too much.

“It’s not enough, is it, sweetheart?”

“No, daddy.”

Bucky spits on him. He’s so stinging and sore he feels it, his hole spasms at the wetness and that burns, too. He looks again at his daddy, at his hard cock and how fixated he is. “Messy, daddy?”

“You’re about to get messier. God, I’m going to come on this hole. If you weren’t so very wrecked I’d press it into you, baby. Jesus, I want to fuck it into you.”

Steve swallows. “You know I’d let you,” he whispers. Good god, he doesn’t want that. He can’t contemplate the pain of that. How long it would last. How devastated and weak it would make him. Bucky would be a very bad man if he did that to Steve. Steve wouldn’t be able to move after that. He’d just cry and cry and Bucky would comfort him for days. Be so proud of him.

“God, I know. Fuck, baby. That’s so pretty. You’re lovely. My good boy.” Bucky comes on him and it sizzles on his skin. He thrusts into the couch to get away, but Bucky’s metal hand holds him still and open as he comes all over Steve’s hole. Steve stops struggling almost immediately. He can’t go anywhere. He doesn’t want to spill it. He can tell Bucky striped his hole thoroughly.

“Let it sit. Let the medicine work, babydoll.” He closes Steve’s cheek, presses it and lifts it open again, smearing the mess all over. “It’s insane. Just beautiful. Let’s get these panties up,” Bucky sighs, finally recovering. “I swear, you make me come so fucking hard, Steve. You make me lose my fucking mind.”

“Good.” He manages. Bucky pulls them up, metal arm getting Steve’s hips up from underneath because Steve is absolutely demolished and boneless. He smoothes them into place, only touching Steve’s hip over and over again.

“Beautiful boy. Is it too much?”

He can’t answer. He can’t stop crying. It’s pouring out of him. Bucky stays with him, keeps kissing him and suddenly Steve can’t take it anymore. He’s up and in Bucky’s lap, clinging tight to him. Skin all along his, except for where they both have underwear on. It’s for the best. If they didn’t he’d be slamming Bucky into him and he’s in no shape for it. Bucky would stop him and that would be awful, too.

He sucks on Bucky’s neck, giving him a hickey, eventually gets flesh fingers pressed into his mouth as he sits on Bucky’s lap and sobs, head tucked under Bucky’s chin.

“Sweetheart. Baby,” Bucky says, over and over. It sounds like his heart is breaking.

“I love you. I just love you so fucking much and it scares the shit out of me. You do something and it’s like I break and all I can think is that I love you. I need you, daddy.”

Bucky squeezes him tight, gets him to look at him, stares into his eyes. “I love you, too. I do, Steve. You’re mine. You’re going to move in and you know what’s really crazy, baby?”

“What?” He sniffles, wiping his face on the shirt. It is officially a bio-hazard now.

“I kind of feel like we’d need to invite Sharon to the wedding. Guest of honor or something.”

“That’s the most fucked up thing you’ve ever said.” He chuckles. “Next time I fall asleep, take the shirt and wash it.”

“I’m scared you’ll hurt me if I try to take it away.”

“That’s why you wait until I’m asleep.”

Bucky reaches past him to the table and grabs two Kleenex. “Blow, sweetheart.”

Steve blows his nose. “Oh my god, I can feel that in my ass.”

“You might need more medicine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we're pushing limits here and it's getting darker, but there will never be a mike pence mask. lol.


	25. Chapter 25

They’re sitting in a restaurant two blocks down from Bucky’s place when Bucky ambushes him. Bucky’s hair is all floppy and curly from the shower, his lip is a little swollen from Steve and all they’ve gotten up to, and his eyes are very gray, which Steve sort of wants to take a picture of, but Bucky would laugh at him. Steve’s coat and Bucky’s scarf are sitting next to him on the booth and Steve’s got his hand on it, petting it absently. They’re a normal couple, out for dinner on Sunday evening and it’s amazing. And! His ass _aches_. It’s all just perfect.

Then the ambush.

“So, what do you think about wiping up?” Because Bucky hadn’t wiped him up. Hadn’t tried. It was one of those threats he always makes to get Steve into a state and then doesn’t go through on. But, Bucky wants to wipe him up. Steve knows that for a fact.

“Are you kidding? We’re waiting for food.” He blushes. Why is he surprised? Bucky loves the ambush. Lulling Steve into thinking one thing and then…. Well. 

He should let Bucky wipe him up. Bucky clearly loves his ass when he’s just fucked it. Well, he always loves Steve’s ass, but just after he’s fucked it, Bucky maybe has a tendency to lose his damned mind and do things he might not usually do. Steve wants more of that. They say willpower is a muscle. Maybe by the time sex is over, Bucky is out of willpower. He shifts in his seat. Now that’s a thought.

Steve winces. “These booths could have more padding.”

“Really? Poor baby. That’s so fucking hot.” Bucky licks his lips. “Talking about the wiping up is not going to put you off your appetite. I could literally inhale a cow right now. You have to be just as hungry.”

“Maybe a small chicken. If I have to _inhale _it.”

Bucky nudges him under the table with his foot. “Besides, sometimes it helps to talk about highly charged things in a non-stressful environment. I tell my clients to never talk about sex right after they do it. Or don’t do it, depending upon the problem.One should wait so it’s not so emotional.” Steve notices the careful pronoun choice. Is that just how he says it to his clients or is he talking about them?

“Is this a sex problem? Do _we _have a sex problem?” His ass would beg to differ.

“No. You do the same thing for missions, right? Debrief isn’t immediate?”

“Depends,” he says, looking around for something to save him.

“It was emotional and it was just about the first thing you said this morning. So, it must have been on your mind.”

“Yeah, because I freaked out. Again. It’s a thing I do. Apparently. You can do the wiping after sex… I don’t like calling it that, though.” He wrinkles his nose. “At all. We can’t call it that. Cleaning? Tidying. Tidying up!”

“Getting a washcloth on you and cleaning you of come and lube is tidying up?”

“Shut _up_! You’re so loud,” he hisses, looking around them. Fortunately, the place is also loud. No one is looking at them. “Jesus. Anyway, yeah, you can do it. But… but, I need praise. _A lot _of praise. It doesn’t look perfect, afterwards. At all. That’s your fucking horror movie. My poor… _hole_,” he whispers. “We should have stayed home. We should talk about something else.”

For once, the universe is on his side. The waitress puts down a small plate of deviled eggs with crispy bacon and chives on top. Steve looks away. Bucky is grinning at him smugly.

“What?” Steve demands.

“Nothing. Do you want one?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie. You’re so stubborn. And it does look perfect, because I _made_ it look that way and you _let_ _me_ make you filthy and fucked out, because you’re so good to me. So, yeah, I love how it looks and I will praise you… when I tidy you up.”

Bucky looks at him. What is Steve supposed to say to that? What is he supposed to do? He kind of wants to just promise Bucky anything and then slide to the floor and blow him in the restaurant but that’s not on. He looks at the eggs.

“Do you know the cost of each egg?” Steve demands. “It isn’t even each egg, it’s half an egg. That’s nine dollars for 2 eggs. I could buy at least 36 eggs for the cost of that.”

“Yes. But do you want 36 eggs or one of these? In fact, there are four so I’ll give you two. You can have one whole egg… and now it’s only 4.50.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

“I think you’re outrage is fucking hysterical.” Bucky picks up an egg and bites into it. He moans theatrically.

Steve crosses his arms. “I’m not eating it now.”

“Because I moaned?”

“No.”

“Because I want you to?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky finishes the egg, picks up another one, looks at it contemplatively. “What would you do if I shoved this in your face?” 

“You wouldn’t.”

“That’s the worst thing you could have said. That’s a dare. Steve Rogers should know better than that. You want me to do it? So you can save face? Another time you can finally have what you want so desperately but won’t let yourself have? You could pay me 200 bucks for this, too. This is the most expensive egg ever. Half egg.”

“I hate you. And, _no_. I don’t want it. I won’t eat it. And you couldn’t shove it in my face because I would stop you.” Bucky looks at the egg, looks at Steve. He’s thinking about it.

“Don’t! It’ll get all over.”

“I won’t do it because it’s a horrible waste of two dollars and twenty five cents.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“What if I _ask_ you to eat one? Because I want you to, and because I don’t want four eggs to myself.I wouldn’t have ordered them if I didn’t think you’d eat half.”

Steve hesitates, puts his arms over the back of the booth. Bucky eyes the spread of his shoulders, gaze sharpening. Which is definitely something. “Maybe if you begged me.”

“Yeah, but you like begging more,” Bucky says, and eats the egg. Which is a relief. For a moment he wouldn’t have been surprised if Bucky actually shoved it in his face.

“You’re lucky you put eating things on your red list.” Bucky says, after he swallows.

Steve frowns. “Oh. This isn’t that.”

“I know. But still. I already make enough assumptions about your limits.”

Steve frowns. “You respect my limits.”

Bucky shrugs, doesn’t seem sure. Steve reaches across the table, hand over his. “No, seriously. There is no doubt in my mind that if something was an issue you’d stop.”

“Good. So, hole _tidying_. Tell me. Because, I do want it and I think it would be good for you, but right now that’s in your hard limits, and I can respect that. You seem grudging.”

“That’s in my hard limits?”

Bucky makes the head exploding gesture, complete with sound affects. “Really? You freaked out.”

“I always freak out. I think if I freak out it’s a reason for discussion not a hard limit. I think…” Steve stops, embarrassed. He leans forward and finds himself whispering. “I think I’m just a bit… emotional or something. As a person.” His face is flushing red it’s so mortifying.

Bucky licks his lips, but doesn’t speak. He nods, his hand covers his face, chin propped on his hand, elbow on the table as he looks at Steve steadily. “Tell me more.”

“Are you doing your therapist bullshit on me?”

“No, this is something different. Seriously. _You might_ _be_ _emotional._ Tell me more.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Look, being emotional was a big fucking deal back then. It’s still a big deal. I know it looks like I’m okay with the crying, but I’m not. It just happens.”

Bucky sighs and reaches out a hand, covering his. “I know. Shit. I’m not trying to laugh at you. But, you are so gloriously, beautifully emotional and sweet I can’t fucking stand it. It’s not that I’m laughing at you, but this _can’t _be news to you. And you can’t think it’s news to me. I’ve added Kleenex to my grocery delivery for you.”

“You have your groceries delivered?”

“Not relevant. But, yes, even though it’s expensive and it means I’ll never get more than 24 eggs for nine dollars, but them’s the breaks.”

Steve kicks him under the table.

“Ow! You’re a fucking super soldier. Know your own strength!” Steve looks horrified.

“No, sweetheart. I was kidding. It’s fine… just a small hematoma.”

Steve crosses his arms, annoyed. “I’m glad you’re not my therapist. You’re mean.”

“God, how weird would it be if you just sat on my lap right now?” he sighs, ogling Steve.

“I’m not doing that.” He would give anything to be able to do that.

Bucky sighs, again. “I know. I just want to grope you and have you on my lap. Eat an egg,” he says, sounding so annoyed at the lack of physical touch that Steve eats the egg. It’s really fucking good.

“Is that one mine, too?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, if you want it.”

Steve eats the other egg. Bucky doesn’t give him shit. Bucky reaches over, takes his hand in his, twining their fingers. “You’re adorable. What should we do when we get home?”

“Monopoly.”

“Maybe we should try to have gentle sex,” Bucky says, ignoring his sarcastic response.

“What does that mean?”

Bucky shrugs.

“Like the virgin thing?”

“That was _not_ gentle sex,” Bucky says, firmly. “If I’m reminding you of your safe word, then it’s not gentle. Maybe—”

“Shh, here comes our food,” Steve says, pulls back his hand and sits up straight so she can put the food down. He closes his eyes against the discomfort in his ass. He’s so fucked up, he’s getting hard.

She puts down Steve’s beef stroganoff which is basically four raviolis in a row. On a flat plate. It’s a fairly liberal interpretation of the dish. Bucky’d ordered short ribs with mashed potatoes and vegetables and his plate is massive.

There is no way Steve isn’t going to leave here starving. He does not want to order more food. He doesn’t want to wake up at 2 am hungry, either. Maybe they can order desert. He has some Snickers bars in his bag. The waitress walks away. Bucky waves a hand in front of Steve’s face.

“What? Sorry,” he says, totally zoned out at the nightmare of his ridiculously small meal. Steve picks up his fork. They’re largish raviolis. Who would think this is a good idea? There should be a warning on the menu. Or a price difference that would have made him suspicious.

“Stevie,” Bucky says, firmly.

“What?” He asks, forcing a smile. Like he’s calm. What’s he going to do, sneak out of bed later and eat?

“Am I your daddy?”

“Bucky, this has nothing to do with that. At all.”

“Just answer the question. Am I your daddy, and do I get to make decisions for you without you arguing if I think it’s necessary?”

He’s going to cry. Or be sick or something. Bucky sighs, picks up their plates and switches them. “Eat your food, babydoll.”

“But—” He can’t let Bucky take his crappy meal.

“I really don’t care, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy,” he says, utterly sincere. Bucky eats a bite of the ravioli monstrosity. “It’s good,” he says, “But this is _not _beef stroganoff.”

“Bucky, I….” He wants to protest.

Bucky stares at him. His daddy has made the decision for Steve’s own good. The end. Fuck. God. He’s so hard now. It’s so good he’s almost dizzy with it. And it makes things better if he can just say yes. He takes a breath, closes his eyes, just needing a second. Steve blinks. His voice wobbles. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Perfect,” he says, so proud of Steve that Steve can feel it in his chest. Bucky scoots over to the end of the booth and pulls Steve’s plate over. “Come here, sweetheart,” he orders.

Steve gets up, sits down so they’re on the same side of the booth and stares dumbly at his food. He will not make his daddy fuck him in the bathroom. He’s civilized. He eyes Bucky’s crotch. Bucky gestures and the waitress comes over. “Could I get another order of deviled eggs and the dessert menu?”

She leaves. Bucky rubs a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay,” Bucky says, kissing him on the jaw. Which is actually kind of funny. Bucky thinks Steve is upset about the food still and he isn’t. That’s so 45 seconds ago, he’s just full on needy and desperate and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Steve leans into him, hand on his leg and the other holding onto Bucky’s sweater. Bucky kisses the top of his head. “Thank you, good boy.”

“Daddy. Daddy, I….” He breathes him in, actually shivers and presses closer. He needs to be okay with this, a vaguely normal person who can have something nice and commanding done for him and not just go to pieces. He swallows. “You really don’t mind?”

“I keep trying to give you a place to live, a meal is the least of it.”

Steve laughs, weakly. Knows he’s blushing. He presses close to Bucky, kisses him on the jaw. “Thank you, daddy,” he says, again, and relaxes into him. This is a perfect moment, too, he decides. It takes a solid two minutes before he can eat, isn’t so on edge and desperate that he can create enough space to sit up and eat. He starts to eat Bucky’s meal. Manages to not get too teary-eyed about the whole thing.

“Why do you keep asking me to move in with you?”

“Insanity.” Steve elbows him gently. Bucky’s short ribs are really good. What a good daddy he thinks, smiling. “Your food is too salty by the way. I did you a favor. And, I’ll make it up to you with sexual favors.”

“Fuck right you will. God, it’s gonna cost you,” he says, and even though he’s joking, Steve feels his underwear cross the line from damp to just wet. Ugh. He shifts on the bench, sighing at the discomfort.

“Will you fuck me when we get home?”

“I’ll inspect you. I very much doubt it. I’ll probably have your ass for desert and tuck my come into you if you’re up for it.”

“I am, daddy.” He has no idea if he is, but he damned well is going to pretend he is regardless. He wants that come. 

“To answer your question. I like living with people. I had roommates until I got the place I’m in now. That was like, a year ago or something. And, I want to see you at night and in the morning and that really only happens one way. You may not know this, as I’ve been so suave about the whole thing, but I’ve basically gone all on in with this relationship,” he says, squeezing Steve’s thigh. He sounds like he’s joking but they both know he isn’t.

“Yeah, but what if three weeks from now or three days from now you realize it’s a mistake?” Steve asks, horribly, disgustingly in love. It wells up inside him. Frankly, it feels like a different form of pain.

“Why wouldn’t _you_ realize it was a mistake?”

Steve shrugs. It wouldn’t be a mistake for him. “There isn’t anything I know about you that makes me think we won’t stay together. Well, except for the arm and your shady past, but I’m hoping that’s paranoia.”

“What worries you about it?” Bucky asks, seriously.

“I don’t know. It’s a locked door so I want to know what’s in there. You have a lot of money, a murder arm and a shady past that may or may not be over.”

“Funny you should ask. It’s not over. For all intents and purposes it’s over, except under very specific circumstances that are very rare. And happening this next week.”

_“What?” _Steve drops his fork on his plate. Turns so he’s facing Bucky, ignoring the pain in his behind.

“I have a commitment, related to the _murder arm_ and the money, etc. that will require me to be gone Thursday and Friday evening. I don’t want to say it will never happen again, because I’m kind of shocked it’s happening at all.”

“Is it safe?” Steve asks, watching him closely.

“Yes. It should be very safe. I could go armed with a banana and be quite confident of the outcome.”

“So, are you going out of town? Wait. So, you will be armed?”

“No. It’s local. I just have to be at a few places for the evening. And maybe a day.”

“I… don’t like that,” Steve says, firmly, just as the eggs get put down.

“I’m not overjoyed about it, either. Not because it isn’t safe, but because I want to tell you and I can’t. Steve, I know you don’t like it,” he says, sincerely. “It’s not dangerous. _At all_.”

“I’m worried. I think it’s probably at least a little bit dangerous if you’re armed. I protect people and I can’t protect you. I’ve only ever loved my ma and I couldn’t protect her, either. I don’t want you to be out somewhere and I’m in your house waiting for you to come back. That’s just….” Yeah, he is definitely going to cry if they don’t change the subject. He might cry later. 

Steve takes another egg. His plate is empty. Bucky’s is empty and the desert menu is waiting because Bucky wants to take care of him and make him happy. Doesn’t he? “Ask me again when your mission is over, if you still want to, and I’ll say yes. But, not now.”

“Okay. I understand. And, I know you have no real reason to know this, but I can take care of myself. Believe me.”

Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that he was captured, lost an arm and almost died, which clearly indicates that he cannot take care of himself. He’s going to have to talk to Nat.Bucky gives him a kiss on the cheek. _He’s_ smiling. “You seem happier than I’d have expected.”

“Steve, you’re moving in in a week. I’m overjoyed.”

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“I can’t do anything about the other stuff.”

“Well, you could promise to come home safe.”

“I can do that,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we actually have a restaurant near us that serves this beef stroganoff. 
> 
> and, one time, we went to dinner with a friend from law school who's boyfriend was a total dick (of course they're married now bc of course) and he ordered scallops for dinner and the plate came and he made a bit to do about how the plate was so small and it was like, they're fucking scallops. what did you think was going to happen? how many did he think he was going to get? you don't get popcorn scallops or something. anyway, none of us liked him so this was quite damning. 
> 
> Ramble over.
> 
> and! Bucky's arm! Bucky's past! it's happening!


	26. Chapter 26

It’s Monday morning, and Steve is on his way to the gym. He hears his name from just up ahead and stops.

“You know who. _Steve._ He _laughed_,” Tony hisses, quietly. Which is enough to make Steve stop and not turn the corner.

“So?” Clint asks, sounding bored. Is it just the two of them? Who else is talking about him?

“Have you _ever_ heard him laugh?”

“Well, yeah. But, that’s just because I’m not an asshole,” Clint says. He thinks Bucky would like Clint.

“Why am I even talking to you?” Tony demands. “You never take my side.”

Clint sighs. “I will say he seems happier. Sharon always seemed nice enough, but you know, when relationships don’t work, getting free of them is like, fucking amazing.”

“That’s true,” Tony says, contemplatively. “He went with me to lunch the other day,” he says.

“See, he does like you.”

Tony hums non-commitally.

Steve keeps moving, turns the corner and almost bumps into the both of them.

“Gents,” he says, and winces. Boys? Fellas? What does one say when you almost run into two male people?

“How are you doing, Steve?” Clint asks.

He can’t help but smile. He’s great. He’s so good. There’s still the faintest twinge in his ass if he clenches just right, and he’s going to see Bucky after work. Bucky’d woken him up this morning by shoving him between his legs and fucking Steve’s throat, then let Steve come, grinding out his orgasm into the bed (well, the towel his daddy had put down which was embarrassing and made him come really hard). His daddy had been there while he’d done his enema and brought him coffee again. “I’m great,” he says.

“Oh my god, you _have_ been replaced by an alien,” Clint says.

Tony hits Clint on the arm. “I told you!”

“I haven’t even done anything!” Steve says.

“You’re practically drooling,” Tony says.

Steve checks his mouth, automatically. Taking him literally because that happens to be something he does when he’s in subspace. It’s possible. Thankfully, there’s no drool. The mere mention and brief memory of Bucky does not make him drool. That’s something. He scowls at them both. “I’m just not miserable. That’s all.”

“And why are you not miserable?” Clint asks, peering at him. “Is that a hickey?”

He glares at Clint. Thank fuck he’d actually checked earlier or he’d have freaked out and given himself away. He knows there’s nothing on his neck. Unfortunately. “You know. Life. So, I have to get a therapist. Do you guys have one you like?”

Tony looks like he’s in pain. He grips Clint by the shoulder. “We don’t go to therapy. We drink and create robot friends instead. Like real men do.”

“I don’t do either of those things,” Clint says, shrugging off Tony’s grip.

“Fine. You hang out in high corners and live in air vents. That’s not the point,” Tony says. “Point is, we don’t do therapy.”

“I go to therapy. Nat recommended a gal. I’ll text you her contact number.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, as Clint gets out his phone. “Done. Tony, you should go to therapy,” Clint says, seriously. Ain’t that the fucking truth.

“Why? Jarvis tells me if I’m a little… over-wrought.”

“You can’t take emotional advice from a computer program _you built _who has no emotions,” Clint says.

“Yeah, but I really only want to hear what I want to hear.”

“And you never want to hear it,” Steve says.

Tony gives him a look. “_You’re_ going to go to therapy?”

“Yes.” However on the fence he was about it, he’s definitely going now. He’ll go twice a fucking week if Tony thinks it’s a bad idea. And Bucky would be pleased. That’s a set of facts you can’t argue with.

“You’re the toxic masculinity poster boy. If you go, we _all_ have to go,” Tony whines.

“You know what’s amazing? The number of conclusions you reach with zero information. I’m going to go make a phone call. Thanks, Clint.” Steve turns to leave. Fucking Tony.

He almost runs into Nat. “Fellas,” she says. Steve blinks. Maybe it is an appropriate greeting. “Fury wants us,” she says.

“Mission?” Tony asks, happily.

“Did he say who he wanted?” Steve asks. He’s not going on a mission.

“Why, Steve? Busy?” She asks.

“I’d like to be.”

“Busy doing what? Or _who_?” Clint asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“Paper mache? Model aircraft?” Tony asks, innocently.

“Origami. It was that or kinky gay sex so what can you do?” Steve says, because fuck having to leave and spend time with Tony when he could be getting fucked and held and put in cuffs by his daddy. He stalks past them all and heads to Fury’s office.

“But… does he know what any of those things are?” Tony whispers. “Maybe it’s knots. Yachting. And happiness.”

“What are you babbling about?” Clint asks.

“Gay is happy. And, when an elderly gentleman might use the work kink in another context. Sex hasn’t changed since the 40’s. But gay and kinky must have, right?”

“Maybe he was serious,” Nat says, placidly. “Maybe he’s a good boy.”

Steve manages to not turn around or give away his shock that she knows, but it’s a close thing. How embarrassing.

“Who, him?” Tony snorts. “Captain America is all daddy. Best behave, Son,” he mimics. Steve turns around, horrified. Tony gestures at him. “Look at him. What a daddy. That’s trendy right now. Do you ever look at the top 100 on Kindle? Depravity. We are in the end times. It will blow your mind. Everyone around us, everywhere, is reading the trashiest hardcore shit you can imagine.”

“Or The Secret,” Natasha says. Steve thinks that’s aimed at him, as well. 

“And Harry Potter. Still,” Clint says.

“Why do you think he’s a daddy?” Natasha asks, and he turns around to glare at her.

“I was going to buy you coffee today,” he growls.

“Really? Why? The clothes?”

“_What_? What clothes?” Tony demands.

“Steve and I went shopping,” she says, and thank god, they’re now at Fury’s office because Steve wants to never see any of them again, let alone finish this conversation. He texts Bucky half an hour later. “Heading out on a mission. Back in 48 hrs. Hopefully. Miss you.”

“Let me know when you’re safe. I’ll take care of you when you get back. Be my brave, good boy.” Steve is practically giddy at the idea and the praise. He looks up. Natasha is watching him with a grin.

“Shut up. Hey. What did Bucky do in the military? How did he get that arm? Why does he have lots of money?”

“I’m pretty sure the person who has those answers is available on text right this moment.”

“I asked him. He doesn’t give me answers. He gets vague and said it was a secret.”

She shrugs. “Sounds like it’s a secret. Trust is very important in relationships. So I hear,” she says. “Sharon told me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Very funny. I just want a vague outline.”

“He’s not dangerous. Well, to you. No one is coming after him. Leave it alone.”

Steve’s mouth falls open. “That’s even worse. And he’s got something this week where he’ll be armed. If you know something about _my boyfriend_ you should tell me.”

He hears something drop to the ground. Tony is blinking at them, wide eyed. “That was… that was my helmet. I dropped it.” Tony picks up the helmet. “I’m gonna….” He walks away.

“Congratulations on coming out to your friend,” Natasha says.

“He’s not my friend. Tell me what you know.”

She smacks him. “You hurt his feelings. You should be nicer to him.”

“Why does everyone say that? He starts it!”

“Well you don’t have to finish it. You’re not children.”

He crosses his arms, can feel the pout happening. He puts his arms down and smiles like a normal person because the pout is not something he does in public… or, ideally, ever.

“You’re hopeless,” Nat says.

“What?”

“Just relax. You get so anxious. He’s crazy about you and he can handle himself. Those are good things.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and reaches out, takes her hand. “Please, tell me what you know.”

“Ugh. You’re so earnest. Go back to bitchy and anxious.” He wants the information so much he doesn’t say a word. She sighs. “Fine. Honestly, I don’t know very much. I can tell you that the arm is experimental and not being used in civilian technology. I’m kind of wondering if it’s vibranium.”

“_Vibranium_? My shield is vibranium. How would he have gotten that?”

“I don’t know. But, he was off the grid completely for a few years and then he was back. With the arm, with no record anywhere. Oh, and lots of money from an untraceable bank account. But, he’s using his own name and he isn’t hiding. So, no one is coming after him. That’s all I know.”

“That’s not enough,” he says, hoarsely.

“Steve. I’m sorry. But, I really don’t think you want me digging up dirt on him. He’s crazy about you. Don’t fuck it up by doing the same thing to him that Sharon did to you. He’s safe. He can protect himself. He’s hot and he’s got money. Congratulations, you’ve stumbled into happiness. Just, enjoy it.”

“I have to protect him.”

“Is that what he wants?”

He shakes his head.

“Respect his boundaries. Don’t be Sharon.”

He punches the wall. She frowns at him, disappointed at his outburst. It’s like she doesn’t know him at all.

***

The mission is fine. It’s actually totally uneventful. They wanted to know if a disused Hydra base was actually disused. It was. Now it’s a hole in the ground. They get back early and Steve has time to shower and change. He makes the appointment with the therapist and is about to head out when Tony stops him.

“You know, Pepper and I would love to have you over for dinner. And if you, you know, had someone to bring. That would be great.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Pepper will keep me from being a total dick. And, I haven’t said anything to anyone. I wouldn’t. And, I’ve been around the block or two. Well, I’ve… _you know_.”

“No, I don’t know,” Steve says, flatly. He thinks he does know, but he wants to hear Tony say it. 

“I’m bisexual and versatile.”

“Oh.” He’s slightly disarmed by the honest response. “Well, I’m gay. So, I’ll ask him. Try not to tell anyone. I just got out of my relationship with Sharon. It doesn’t look great.”

Tony’s brows raise and lower. “Bro code.” He offers a fist bump.

“I can’t do that,” Steve says. “I’m too old.”

“High five?”

He pats Tony on the back. Tony jolts forward. It could have been gentler. “Ah, the back pat of friendship. It’s like it’s 1945,” Tony says, rolling his shoulder.

Steve leaves. That’s enough Tony for a solid month.

Alas, he’ll see him tomorrow.


	27. Chapter 27

Steve gets to Bucky’s at 6:15. He went to his place, did an enema and manscaped, half hard in anticipation, the entire time. He wants to get fucked. Immediately. Shoved down, pants lowered and just pounded into the sheets. Or the cushions. Or the table. It’s not as comfortable, but god it makes him feel used. Bucky had given him a plug when he left on the Monday. Something small, just so he’d be a little prepped if they were going to be together. Bucky’s exact words had been, “Just so I don’t have to be quite so brutal on your sweet little hole if I need to fuck you immediately.”

He’d gotten hard all fucking day on Monday and Tuesday thinking of that. And he hadn’t done a damned thing about it except shove tissue into his cup, which can’t be a long term solution. He doesn’t know what the alternative is, but, it’s gross.

So, yeah. The plug is in because getting fucked needs to happen asap and he doesn’t want the pain to shove him into sub-space so he can’t even appreciate being with his daddy while it’s happening. Riding his bike over, plug inside him, grazing his prostate is a hell of a lot more intense than he expected.

When he turns off the bike, he’s shaking. Gets off carefully and spends a moment fiddling with the helmet because he might literally come at the sight of his daddy he’s so worked up now. He takes off the helmet and smooths his hair, looks around and doesn’t see anyone so he adjusts himself. He’s soaked in pre-come. At least Bucky will be happy about it. He’s going to fall upon Bucky like a starving man. Which he is, withering away to nothing due to lack of come. He rings the bell and Bucky comes to the door, smiling and holding his wallet. “Steve?” he asks, surprised.

“Why am I thinking surprising you wasn’t a good idea?” Because Bucky looks shocked and… what? What is that expression?

“No, it’s a great idea. Come in,” he says. He’s about to give Steve a kiss when someone comes up behind them. A delivery man. With food. “I just have to pay,” Bucky says, and Steve goes past him, takes off his shoes and puts down his bag. He’s unsettled, unsure if Bucky looked happy to see him or not. He got back early and wanted to surprise him so he didn’t text. So stupid. He takes in the table. It’s set for two. There’s a guy in the kitchen. He’s staring at Steve with his mouth open. Guilty.

“Oh my fucking god,” Steve says. Just as Bucky comes in.

“We have plenty of food. Did Sam introduce himself?” Bucky asks, smiling.

“No, Sam did not,” Steve says, wanting to punch Sam in his handsome face. Sam of the whips and orgasms. Sam who Bucky has known for _years_. Steve is about to lose his shit, as Clint would say. He takes a breath.

He can’t overreact. Bucky isn’t fucking Sam, and this isn’t as horrible as he was sure it was two seconds ago. Sam and Bucky are friends having dinner. Bucky wasn’t cheating on Steve because he’s a god damned disaster. Or because Bucky is actually some sex maniac and not nearly as perfect as Steve thinks he is (except for the murder arm and shady past) and this is… fine. It’s okay. He can relax. Not freak out. He’ll just… go home.

And cry.

Alone.

While his daddy has dinner with his friend as normal people do. Steve shouldn’t expect to get all of Bucky’s attention. Bucky has a life. Steve had a moment there where he was convinced he’d interrupted something sordid and that would have been awful. So, really, this is all good. It’s fine. Everything is just fine. Steve’s fingers brush the zipper of his jacket and he realizes he’s rubbing his stomach. Fuck.

The man jerks into motion. “Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you. Really. I… wow. Steve Rogers. I kind of thought he was lying.”

“So, Bucky told you about me?” He asks, because that’s something, right? Bucky puts the food on the table, wanders back over to Steve. He moves in for a kiss, and Steve pulls back, uncertain. Overwhelmed.

Bucky fists his metal hand into Steve’s shirt. Yanks hard enough that Steve sways closer, making a small sound. “Say hello to me,” he growls. “I missed you. Did you bring your bag to stay the night?” He kisses Steve on the mouth. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, hauling him close, kissing him harder, lifting him off the ground in some macho possessive display that he hopes to hell he’ll pay quite dearly for later.

“Yes, I did. But, maybe I should go?” He asks, needing to hear that Bucky wants him here.

“What? You just got here!” Sam says, and opens the cupboard to get another plate. He grabs a glass and silverware, brings it to the table and sets it all down. “Huh? Ta da,” he says, pointing at the setting.

“The perks of being Captain America,” Steve says, quietly. It’s not like Sam wants to know him for him. He wants to know about his persona. The costume, and what life was like back in the day, or if he was awake in the ice. All the shit people always want to ask him. What’s it like to be a hero? Just, stupid, fucking questions.

Bucky narrows his gaze, licks his lips. Steve tracks the movement. Blushing and hard. “I should have said I was coming over. I should have… asked. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His voice wavers.

“Come here,” he says, taking Steve’s hand and leading him from the room. “You can eat if you want. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh boy. I’ll let myself out if you take too long.” He doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

Steve follows him up the stairs, pissed off and jealous. And aroused. Did he mention aroused? That he didn’t jerk off _at all _because he was waiting for this reunion and for his daddy to take care of him? “I should just go. Have dinner with your friend. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No, I want you to meet Sam. He’s a good friend. You’ll like him. He’s the therapist I mentioned, but—“

“I’m not going to fucking see him. He’s your friend. If I wasn’t Captain America, he wouldn’t care about knowing me at all.” Steve says, vehemently.

“Yes, he would. He’s my friend. You’re my boy. I swear you’ll like him.”

“Wait. Does he _know_? Oh, my god,” Steve says, horrified. “I can’t do this.” He turns to go, but Bucky grabs him.

“Don’t you walk away from daddy,” he says, low. Steve stays where he is. He wants to be good. And, even more than that, he wants to be with Bucky. So fucking badly. He heaves out a sigh, grabs onto Bucky’s sweater. Bucky’s hand goes around his wrist, encouraging the contact, stopping him from pulling away. “Good boy.”

He shakes his head. He isn’t. He can’t. “I wanted you to myself. I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk to anyone or be anyone. I just want you. I should have fucking called you. I was just so relieved to be able to not be a total mess like last time. I wanted you to see that I’m not work all the fucking time and… _shit_!” He blinks and tries desperately to not have the tears fall.

“Babydoll. You’re not work all the time. Let me fix it.”

“How?” Steve asks, and sniffs. Bucky reaches up, wipes away Steve’s tears.

“I’ll fix it. You’re my good boy, right?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, sounding ridiculously young. He clears his throat. He’s lame. This is lame. He should go.

“Good. I know you are. Come here. Let’s see how very quick we can be, and then we’ll go have food,” he says, and Steve doesn’t even argue. That’s how easy he is. He reaches for Bucky’s pants, undoes them, gets the zipper down on the second try and slides his hand into his underwear. Bucky moans, hard already.

Steve whimpers as Bucky undoes Steve’s clothes, shoves his hand into Steve’s pants, one hand at the front, the other at the back. A duel assault. “Daddy,” he gasps.

Bucky laughs. “You’re fucking soaked, sweetheart. And look at how clever you are. Open enough, aren’t you? Bend over the bed.” Steve shuffles to the bed, bends over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Steve says, over and over again. This is what he needs.

He’s there for a moment while Bucky goes into his closet. He comes back with a pair of his boxers. The ones from Sunday. He’d used Steve so hard. They stink of sex. He’s ashamed, stunned this is what Bucky has given him. “Shove your face in there. You’re welcome,” he says, and he puts a towel under Steve’s hips, draped down the side of the bed and onto the floor. “And there’s a towel for your messy cock.”

Steve tries very hard not to come from the easy humiliation. From being known. He sobs into the boxers, drags in deep breaths, letting the scent of sex and Bucky and the two of them fill him up as Bucky pulls out the plug. He presses the lube shooter into Steve’s clenching passage, grabs Steve’s hips.

“Fuck! Daddy, sorry, sorry,” he begs, coming in an explosive splatter at the feel of Bucky’s hard hands. “It was two days. God,” he’s horrified. Bucky laughs at him, pleased.

“There’s my easy slut. Good thing daddy put the towel down for you, isn’t it? Come just thinking about me fucking you. You really think I’d want _anyone_ else? When you want me and cry for me? When you’re so sweet and devoted? When I fucking missed you and am waiting for you to fucking move in with me? Jesus, baby. You’re going to need to get your fucking head examined if you really think I’d _look_ at anyone else when I can have you.” 

Bucky hauls him back, where he wants him and shoves into him in one brutal thrust. Steve shouts into the boxers at the shock and instant agony of it all. He’s open just enough that he couldn’t keep him out. But he’s so fucking full it’s like he can’t quite breathe.

“Fuck, so _tight_. But you can’t keep me out, can you? Jesus, you’re so good, Steve. I missed you. Missed your hole and your body. Missed you. Daddy will show you how much.”

“I’m sorry, daddy. Please, fuck me.”

Bucky pulls half out and shoves into him, short and sharp, seating himself as rapidly as possible, pulling Steve’s cheeks open and dragging his hips back to get to the absolute limit inside Steve. Steve cries out, loud and desperate. Bucky laughs at him. “He’s going to fucking hear you. Is that what you want?”

“No. I don’t think so. _Daddy!_” Yes, he does. Make sure Sam knows he gives his daddy everything. That there’s no fucking room for him in Bucky’s bed, at all.

“Stay. Take my fucking cock,” Bucky growls as Steve shuffles forward to the bed, not escaping or even trying to escape just… it’s so much. Bucky bends over him, bites him hard on the neck, slamming his hips into him, pressing him into the bed, just wanting to come.

“Please, come. Please, daddy. Please?”

Bucky reaches around him, squeezes Steve’s balls and Steve comes again, Bucky rubbing him harshly through it. He clenches on Bucky’s cock and gets a sharp thrust in response. A loud groan as he milks Bucky’s pulsing cock, filling him up like he should. Bucky keeps stroking his balls, rubbing and pulling at them, not ruining his orgasm, but it definitely takes away from the good of it.

“Daddy,” he murmurs, turns his face into the underwear, staying there, very still as his daddy hurts him, just a little hardship to work through, to know he was missed.

“God, you’re incredible,” Bucky says, panting. He licks the bite on Steve’s neck. “Tilt. I’ll plug you back up.”

“Um,” Steve says, not quite sure how to accomplish that.

“Oh, dear. You really did get fucked out, didn’t you? Like this, my good boy,” he says, hauling Steve upwards and pushing down on his back. Bucky pulls out of him slowly, touches Steve’s hole, tucking come back into him. The plug is back, pressed inside him and Bucky stands him upright. Steve sways, tries to kiss Bucky. Bucky takes the towel and wipes at Steve’s cock, just a little and pulls up his pants. Gets him tucked away.

“You’ll sit at my feet. I’ll feed you. Sam won’t talk to you tonight. I’ll have dinner with my friend and you can keep your head on my leg, knowing I’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve got my come in you, and my plug, and how I’m going to have you get me all cleaned up the moment he leaves. Right there at the kitchen table. Yeah, baby?”

Steve leans forward, head on Bucky’s chest. “Yes, please. Daddy. Fuck. Yes, please. Just you.”

“That’s right,” he says, taking Steve’s chin in his hand, tilting his head up. “Just me. Tonight, I’m the only thing you see.” He presses a kiss to Steve’s lips and gets his cuffs and his collar. Bucky puts his collar on and makes a tsking sound. “God. So fucking sweet I couldn’t even put a collar on you first. Just bent you over the bed and used you like the easiest slut. I didn’t make any effort to make it good for you, did I, baby?” That voice that sounds sympathetic, but isn’t. He loves Bucky so much.

“Oh. You did. I came,” Steve says, slow and out of it.

“You mean when I played with your balls? I just like your balls. That had nothing to do with you I’m afraid. I guess it’s good you liked it. Get what pleasure you can when you’ve got a daddy who’s so fucking selfish and desperate for you.”

“Thank you, daddy,” he says, tears sliding down his cheeks. This is what he needed. He’s full with love now. His hole hurts and aches, his limbs are weak from coming, and he’s not quite all here. He can still smell sex and he hopes he reeks of it. Used. Ridden hard and put away wet.

“Well, you are welcome. If you liked that then you’re in luck because I’ve got a lot of come for you and you’re so sweet I just want to keep you clingy and needy.”

Steve swallows down the sob. “Thank you, daddy. You take care of me.”

Bucky grins. “That’s right, lovely boy.” He clips the wrist cuffs together and leads Steve from the room. They go down the stairs and Steve stops at the bottom. The full reality of what he’s agreed to sinking in. He can’t go in there wearing cuffs! He can’t be some weirdo who sits between Bucky’s legs and gets fed like a dog while the grown-ups talk.

“Wait. Bucky. I change my mind. It’s weird.”

Bucky scoffs. “Samuel. How many times have I come to your house for dinner only to find out your mistress wouldn’t be letting you speak for the night?”

“Because I was being good or bad?”

Bucky chuckles. “I don’t think it matters.”

“Uh, a lot. Why? Is it dinner for two? You want me to get a pillow for your boy?” Sam walks past them both, nods at them like it’s no big deal and picks up a cushion. Drops it next to Bucky’s chair. On the side away from Sam. Bucky gives Steve a look, strokes his bottom lip.

“Come be my good boy?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, very quietly.

“Perfect. Don’t make eye contact with Sam. I get everything tonight. All of your attention stays on me. You think about me and how good it felt to have me use your hole. You think about how you’re going to make me come when dinner is over. That is all you are tonight. You’re my hole. My good boy. And I’ll use you after dinner. Stay close, be still. Be quiet. And you will be perfect.”

“Yes, daddy.” He follows Bucky, gaze down, everything fuzzy and cozy.

“Sam, please try to avoid looking or making contact with my good boy. He’s having a quiet night.”

“I can do that,” Sam says. It sounds like he’s eating already.

Bucky gestures to the cushion and Steve goes down to his knees. Bucky sits at the table. Steve moves closer, puts his head on Bucky’s thigh. Gets a hand in his hair. He’s getting Bucky’s jeans wet with tears. Bucky looks down at him fondly. “Good boy,” he says, and Steve exhales.

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers, and he drifts away.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the spirit of this being a low angst story, the chapter is long. I'd wanted to break it up over three days. there is nowhere good to break it up without messing with the flow or making it seem more angsty than it is. Enjoy!

“Down you go,” his daddy says, softly, a hand on his head to support him and the other on his shoulder as he puts his head back down. There’s talking. A door closes. Footsteps. Steve is drooling. He _hates_ drooling. He opens his eyes and it takes a second to orient himself. He is… on a floor. His head is a on a cushion that’s been placed on Bucky’s chair.

“Daddy?” He asks, a little unsure where he is and what’s going on. Bucky is there in a moment, kneeling beside him.

“Hi, baby. You back? Sam just left and I was showing him out. Come to bed,” he says, quietly, and helps Steve to his feet.

“Fuck,” Steve says, collapsing to the chair. He reaches for Bucky, buries his head in his stomach. “You said I had to clean you up when he left,” he murmurs, kissing his stomach absently. It would be very nice if there weren’t clothes in the way.

Bucky chuckles. “Yes, but that was before you fell asleep. How was your mission?”

“Um,” he has to think about it. He nuzzles closer. “Fine. Uneventful.”

“Do you need food, Steve?”

“I ate at five.”

“It’s 8:30. Should we put you to bed or do you want me to feed you?”

“Don’t care,” he says. “Not hungry now. I’m ready. I thought about you. Promise.”He’s not been drunk in… a very long time. This is as close as it gets, he realizes, fuzzily. He’s turned on, wants to get touched so he feels it, and yet everything is difficult and kind of foggy. And he’s tired.

“Hmm. You might care later,” he says, tilting Steve’s head back with both hands. He looks up at his daddy. Steve’s eyes are gritty. He strokes his hand over Bucky’s crotch, traces the shape of his hard cock. “Is that mine?”

“That is yours. It’s always yours. It will also be there tomorrow, too,” he says, winking. He bends down and kisses Steve on the forehead. That’s it then. Bucky has decided to put him to bed. Tomorrow. 

“No, now,” Steve says, and sits up, desperately trying to wake up from his subspacey nap.

“Babydoll. So stubborn.”

“It’s been said. It’s been days, daddy. You’re hard. You said I had to.” Does he not care enough to make him? 

Bucky looks down at him, brushing his hair back, evaluating him. “True. But, my dick was in your sweet bottom and that was a bit ago. It might not be a very nice treat right now.”

“It’s always nice, daddy,” he says, blushing and fumbling with Bucky’s pants. Steve clears his throat, shakes his head a little and takes a deep breath. “Fuck, I was gone. Still not… god, just give it to me.”

“You were. You are. I was so proud of you. Sam was annoyed. I kept staring at you and wasn’t paying any attention.”

“Good.”

Bucky chuckles. “I told you, you don’t need to be jealous of Sam.”

“Is he bi?” His hands reach around, grabbing Bucky by the ass. Bucky grins at him.

“Isn’t everyone bi?”

“I’m not. I’ve decided. Now that I’ve had dick, I’m done. Now I know why you grab me like this,” Steve says, squeezing his ass. “Are you bi?”

“Not really. No one is going to give me a gold star for my gay credentials, but I’m a lot happier eating ass than pussy, and every time I look at your tits I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Steve gives him a look. “Flatterer.” He squeezes Bucky’s cheeks. The hard muscle of him. Asses are good. He almost says it, but it’s not a particularly articulate conclusion.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Bucky says, and slides his hand around Steve’s neck, under his jaw. Steve swallows so he can feel the pressure of Bucky’s grip. It doesn’t hurt, and he can breathe, but his daddy is very tall and very firm and Steve’s very hard now. “Tell daddy what you want. I want everything. Help me narrow it down.”

“What’s everything?” he asks, throwing it back to him. Bucky lets him go, undoes his belt and his pants, shoves down his clothing to mid-thigh and aims his dick at Steve’s mouth.

“Suck it, then.” Steve sucks him in deep and moans. Steve would bet money his ass is cleaner than most people’s kitchens, but Bucky smells of sex and he tastes of lube and come and if he wasn’t so fucking depraved he’d be revolted. He gets close, breathes deeper, chokes himself.

“Swallow a lot. You’re cleaning my cock.”

Steve obeys, lets himself gag and drool. He looks up, knows Bucky is pleased. Bucky drags him off and Steve catches his breath. Bucky kisses him deeply. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers.

“What did you think about while you were away?”

“Getting fucked. Shoved down.”

“Hmm. We did that when you walked in.”

“It’s actually okay if you do it again. 10 out of 10, would do again.” He gets his mouth back on Bucky. Bucky groans and then pulls out of Steve’s mouth, takes his clothing off in the kitchen and orders Steve do the same.

When Steve’s naked, Bucky touches him. Gropes his chest and pinches his nipples. Steve drips and touches his daddy’s chest. Bucky’s cock is hard and flushed in arousal. He grabs Steve between the cheeks, pressing into the plug and then slaps Steve across the face. Steve moans, sways closer.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks.

“Anything. Fuck. All of it. You decide.”

“I want you to cry. And I want to hurt you in your pretty little hole. But, it’s late and we both work tomorrow. We could do something gentle. Quicker. Not so intense.”

“It’s been two days. Give me what you really want to give me.”

“What do you think I _really _want to give you?” Bucky asks, pressing his metal thumb into Steve’s mouth. His other hand slides down to the plug, the heel of his hand grinding it against him.

“I don’t know, but I want it. Daddy.”

Bucky takes his thumb out and Steve licks his lips, tries to chase after his finger. “What are you doing, my easy slut?”

“Whatever you want. Missed you. Want to feel like I’m yours. Really yours.”

Bucky spins him, presses him down to the table so he’s resting his cheek there, head turned to the side so he can see Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “I want to take you upstairs. Don’t let me get distracted.”

“I think you’re about to get distracted,” he says, as Bucky moves behind him.

Steve tilts his ass. Bucky’s palm presses against the plug, quick and with a sound. It’s not a smack, but it’s close. Steve’s breathing stalls in his chest.

“Do you feel full of come?”

“Not enough.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Were you safe out there?”

“Yes, daddy.” He actually was.

“Good boy. I want to use you, Steve.”

“I want that, too.”

“Do you want me to use you, or use you _and_ hurt you?”

“What do you want? I want whatever you want.” Actually, he wants his daddy to hurt him. He’d like to go to work tomorrow sore in his hole and with bruise marks all over. He should say. But, it’s really only good if it’s what his daddy wants.

“I want to hurt you,” Bucky says, easily. Steve sighs in relief. Thank god. He smacks Steve on the ass.

“Oh! Daddy?” His ass cheek is warm from the hit and Bucky rubs it. Spanking is something his daddy is going to train him to like. Is that what this is? Steve’s a blank slate, an empty canvas, he thinks, as he lays there, waiting. He needs the color of Bucky’s emotions all over him.

Bucky should hit him and bruise him and fuck him raw. Steve sighs, weirdly… receptive. Everything seems so soft. He loves his daddy so much and it’s like that time spent at his feet just made him more adoring, more desperate to please. Has Steve been sitting on that floor with an ass full of come, drifting along thinking of pleasing his daddy, and his daddy was thinking about him, too?

Maybe he got calmer and softer and his daddy got more worked up and harder. What a nice thought. How good would that be? He could give and it would make Bucky into _more_.

“That’s the problem with shoving the question back. Now you don’t have a chance to answer. You had it. You lost it. I want to hurt you. Tell me no. I dare you.”

“Yes, please,” he says, quietly. “It’s exactly what I want. Promise.”

He gets another smack on his ass and he rises and lowers on his tip-toes. There’s another touch to his hole, the plug, a half-smack. Which is…. “Daddy?”

“What’s wrong, my love?”

Steve’s first thought is that his daddy must be so nice if he sounds like that which is obviously not true because he’s getting spanked on his hole and Bucky should be careful with that, shouldn’t he? And then the words register.“Oh,” he whispers,because ‘my love’ is so much better. That’s nice, too. Tears fill his eyes. His daddy rubs his stinging ass cheek, croons some sort of nonsense at him. “You… you’re spanking me, daddy.”

Bucky makes a sound in his throat, moves so he’s close, back against Steve’s back, hovering over him, breath hot on Steve’s neck. “I am, aren’t I? And you don’t like that, do you?”

“Daddy?”

“You know you can tell daddy no. Whenever you want to.” Steve swallows. There’s a massive lump in his throat. He’s going to start crying soon. “Do you want to tell daddy no?”

“Never.”

“Jesus, I want to fuck you right here. Tell daddy you deserve better.”

“No.”

“Tell daddy you deserve the chance to really fucking hurt and he shouldn’t be such a greedy, selfish asshole because you want to cry yourself dry.”

“I don’t know, daddy.” Is that what either of them want?

“What do you want, Steve?” He spanks him again.

Steve yelps and looks back at his daddy. Bucky’s cock is really hard and he’s looking at Steve’s ass. Bucky is going to hurt him. Bucky is in a mood and has missed him. It’s going to be brutal, he just knows. Thank god.

“You. I need you,” Steve breathes, clunking his head on the table. “Whatever you’re going to do, daddy. I want it all. I won’t say no. Daddy, I— _oh!_” Bucky spanks him on his hole, over the plug and it steals his breath. His legs go weak. He buries his face into the table and cries for a moment. He turns to look back, gets a metal hand on his neck so he doesn’t try to lift up. Can’t get away. He wouldn’t. He’s good.“Daddy?” he asks, high and lost.

“There it is. _That’s _what I want. The sounds, the tears, the snot. I missed my good boy. My good, _little_ boy. Can you be that for me? Can I turn you into that for me?”

The hand slides off his neck and Bucky kisses his back, the knobs of his upper spine, sucks a mark into his neck while the words and the emotion of it swirl around inside of Steve. He sobs. “I want my shirt, daddy.”

Bucky laughs. “Good boy. Here’s what daddy wants from you. Since you’ve already decided you just want to take what I give you. I want you to be a sobbing fucking mess for me. I want to feel like you will die if you don’t get my cock. I want you frantic and out of your mind for my cock and my come. So, I want to spank your hole. Because that will get me what I want. It’s not punishment, it’s so I feel like you love me as much as I love you. It’s so you’ll cry and use that little boy voice and I’ll come so hard.”

“How much do you love me?” Steve whispers. Because it’s a lot and he missed Bucky, too.

Bucky drapes himself over Steve’s back, kisses Steve’s ear. He adjusts, gets as much weight on Steve as he can. The table is hard on Steve’s ribs and where it cuts into his stomach. He whimpers.

“Shh. Good boy. I love you enough to hurt you. I love you enough to fuck you raw inside. I love you so much, that even though I know you don’t like certain things, I want to do it to you anyway.Because you’ll let me. So, I’m going to spank your hole. And you’re going to be so desperate and good for your daddy, aren’t you? And when I’m fucking you later, and it hurts because that plug got hit over and over again, you’ll know it’s because I loved you so much, won’t you?”

“Yes, daddy. Please, daddy.”

“Beg me for it.”

“I— daddy, no.” he doesn’t know what he’d be begging for. If he gets it wrong he might get nothing. “Just do what you want.”

“Then beg me _not_ to do it. Whichever one you want, but it’s happening. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“What’s happening?” His daddy demands, a fist in his hair. Steve sobs. He doesn’t know.

“I’m sorry. I have no idea but you love me and I want you to,” he says.

Bucky smacks the plug. “That. You’re getting more of this,” he says, spanking Steve again on the plug, because you make me want you too much. Got it?”

He nods and whimpers. There’s a cramp in his guts from the hits and he hates it.

“That’s right. It kind of has to, doesn’t it?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Well, you make me need you so bad. You make me so fucking hard I can’t help myself. And if I can’t help myself then it has to happen, doesn’t it?”

“Um, yes, daddy. Daddy, please.” That is right. He’s almost positive.

“Oh, please _what_?” Bucky asks, intent upon Steve’s answer, but there’s a desperation there that makes him sound cruel and Steve has no idea what to do with that. His daddy is going to hurt him now. He has to. The heel of Bucky’s hand shoves hard against the plug. Steve groans.

Bucky slaps him on the ass again and Steve sobs loudly. Bucky licks his face. “So tempting to just fuck you right here and add to that mess inside you. You feel so fucking good inside. I think both options would be pretty fucking good, don’t you? What do you want?”

“I’m not naughty?”

“No. You’re _too_ good. You’re_ too _perfect. You’re so beautiful and good I have to do it even though you don’t like it. I love you so much I’ve got to spank that pretty hole all red, don’t I?” Bucky’s fingers trace roughly around the plug, press in on it again. “But, I want to fuck you, right now, too. So you can choose. You decide. I turn you into my needy little boy by spanking your hole red, red, red. Or I fuck you right here, put you in a pretty pair of panties after and tuck you into bed with me. Both so good, Steve.”

Steve breathes. Bucky is trembling behind him and his hands are everywhere, his hands are pulling and dragging at Steve’s skin, his nails slide down his flesh, leaving trails of stinging heat behind him. “Tell daddy, good boy.”

Jesus. Red, red, red, Bucky said. So this is something. Right. He’s got that much. He doesn’t want to get out of it. Steve wants the darkness and the meanness and the pain that Bucky’s been tempting him with. He thought it was decided. That it was happening. Why is there another choice and more red bullshit? How does he just get Bucky to keep going? “Um, you said you were going to spank my hole. You have to. You need it. You told me you needed it? Are you… taking it away?”

“No, I’m not trying to take it away. It’s just… a lot. It’s so much. You make me crazy, Steve. All through dinner you cried on my leg, mouth open, pressed in so close. So needy. I could feel how much you needed me. And, I thought, I could hurt you so easily and you’d let me. And then I sat there, hard and you were so pretty, for another fucking hour and a half. I kept thinking of all the ways I could hurt you and how you’d let me. It was very hard for daddy. That’s all. I just want to tear you up, babydoll. My sweet boy. Make me so fucking hard. See how that’s your fault?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m sorry. You should… fuck me.”

“Steve,” He says, very seriously. “That’s a really good idea.” He spanks Steve’s ass. “You _should_ be sorry. Sorry you made me want you so much. How did you do it, Steve?” A hard hit lands on his hole. It’s a punch in the gut. He feels it in his throat. He almost gags. And the ache in his hole is different. Because the plug is hard. It hurts so much that it takes a second to really understand how it feels. How awful it is. The pain bursts over him like a wave. 

“Fuck. I don’t know. I’m sorry, daddy.” 

“It was those god damned tears, wasn’t it?” And he hits him again.

Steve cries out, grips the edges of the table, one foot kicking back. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you need the ankle cuffs too?”

“No, no, I don’t. I’ll behave. I’ll be good. So good, daddy.”

“We’ll see,” he says, darkly. “If not, I’ll chain you up good and proper. In my bed with your perfect ass raised in the air for me.” Another hit. “It’s that perfect fucking hole, isn’t it?” And he gets another hit. “Is that why I want you so fucking much I can’t help myself?”

“Daddy,” he begs, gets another hit, smack in the middle of the plug and he comes and slumps down off the table to the ground. He gets his hand in the mess, licks it off.

How did he get back on the ground, he wonders dully. Then there’s a hand in his hair and Bucky’s cock is fed back into his mouth. He licks and sucks, but his nose is all stuffed up and he can’t stop sobbing. His hand slides on the ground, wanting to find the mess he made. The moment Bucky gets any depth at all Steve chokes. Bucky pulls him off by his hair. “Shh. My love. My sweet, beautiful boy. Worship daddy’s cock. Little licks and kisses, suck on my balls. You’re too overwhelmed to get a big cock in your throat right now and I want nice things for you, don’t I?”

“Y-yes, daddy.” He throws his arms around his waist and holds him tight, smears his own come all over his daddy’s lower back and ass. A fierce joy goes through him. As if he won something, did something very clever by making his daddy messy. It clears away the submission, pings something primal in himself and he scratches his own nails down his daddy’s ass and his thighs, pulls off and bites into the smooth skin and muscle of his stomach. Bucky’s hands dig into his hair.

“Fuck, I love you. I missed you, daddy. I’m scared about your mission. I’m terrified. It’s not fair. You have to tell me. Fucking tell me. I can help you. Daddy. Daddy, I could help. I can do it. You have to let me now. Let me, let me,” he says, and kisses him everywhere, smears tears and snot all over Bucky’s stomach.

“Babydoll, it’s not a mission,” he says, like Steve is the cutest thing ever. He kisses his face. “It’s not dangerous. Jesus. It’s a party. Focus on the moment. Not that. We cannot change that. We have right now. And we’ll have the weekend. Every weekend and every night. I promise you it’s safe. Worship daddy’s cock and get yourself together a little. Calm down. Easy,” he says, and he takes Steve’s hands in his own, tries to stop him scratching into his skin. He owns Bucky, too, god damnit. He gets to put that claim into his skin.

“We should have brought your shirt down.” He pulls out of Steve’s grip and presses Steve’s head to his cock and lower, to his balls. “Go ahead. Focus here. Right now.”

Steve nods and moans, tries to be good. He licks and sucks, getting each hard ball wet and sloppy, pressing his tongue all along it and sucking them into his mouth. He wants to go back, to lick his daddy’s hole, but Bucky pulls him away and back onto his cock. “No, that’s your treat, not mine,” he says, when Steve whimpers at the denial.

“I’ll let you have it to indulge you, but I’m not feeling very indulgent right now. Why not?” He asks, thumb next to Steve’s lips, trying to dip in while Steve sucks on the head of Bucky’s cock. He doesn’t know.

“Daddy?” He finally asks, lower lip trembling.

“Because you were so good and I’m too fucking horny to spend time on what you want. It’s all about me right now. I’m going to hold you still for a bit, fuck your face. Watch me, understand? Look at me. You look at your daddy and you think about giving me everything I want.”

Of course he wants to give Bucky everything. Bucky grunts and his hands get hard as he fucks Steve’s face. He hits the back of Steve’s throat a couple of times and Steve is better able to deal with it now.A little calmed down, at least. Finally, Bucky groans, trembling gently and then steps back. His cock is hard and the tip leaks. “In my mouth, daddy,” he whispers, eyeing the drop.

“Let’s get you upstairs.” Steve gets to his feet.

“No. Back on the ground and crawl.”

“D-daddy?” The very idea is overwhelming. He shouldn’t. He can’t. Bucky watches him. Steve chews his lip and sobs. He reaches for Bucky and Bucky takes his hand, brings it to his mouth and kisses his fingers.

“That’s right. Down you go.”

Steve goes to his knees again, shame washing over him. Bucky lets go of his hand, gives his collar a tug. “I can’t remember. Did you say people know where you are or not?”

That’s it.

He can’t take anymore. Steve snarls, actually snarls, and shoves Bucky to the couch, climbs on top of him and kisses his mouth. “Fuck me. _Fuck me_. Give me your cock. I can’t stand it. I can’t wait. You have to. You fucking have to,” Steve says, and he tastes blood.

What if Bucky dies? What if his daddy never comes back and Steve could have saved him. He reaches for the plug, to yank it out and get his daddy’s cock inside him, but the metal hand is there too, pressing, relentless, grinding the plug deeper so Steve can’t take it out.

“Fuck!” Steve shoves up, tries to ease up the pressure by getting higher on Bucky’s body, and Bucky’s flesh arm hooks around his neck, makes Steve kiss him. Steve whimpers, more copper.

“Slow now. Slow down,” his daddy orders.

“No,” Steve sobs. “Can’t. Fuck me. You wanted this. It’s not fair.” He sobs. “I can fucking _save you_. I can do _anything_.”

“Shh,” Bucky orders, holding Steve tight with all of his strength.

“Fuck you, I can fix this. How can you not let me? You’ll make me hate you if you don’t let me.”

Steve stops. No. He didn’t mean that. At all. “Sorry. I won’t hate you. Daddy. Daddy. I _won’t_. I’m sorry.”

Bucky makes him look at him, smiles sadly at Steve. “I know you don’t mean it. I know you love me. I know you’re upset and that’s okay. You’re scared and you don’t need to be, babydoll. It’s not like that. You need to let it go. I’m sorry, but you have to let it go. I don’t need you to save me. I need you to be my good boy. Do you want to do that or not?”

“I want you to tell me,” he sobs.

“No. I won’t. It’s done,” he says, voice hard. Bucky takes both of Steve’s hands, cuffs them at Steve’s back and Steve could get out. He fucking could. But, it suddenly feels like he lost. He tried and his daddy stopped him. His daddy doesn’t want his help. Doesn’t want to be saved, doesn’t want Steve. He has no use for Steve’s abilities. Hell, it’s the only fucking thing he’s good at and Bucky doesn’t want it.

“Bucky,” He says, and his voice breaks. “There is nothing else. I don’t have anything else to give you.” 

“That’s not true. You have everything else to give me but you’re being stubborn. I need you to be good now. Do you want to go to bed or do you want daddy’s cock?”

He kisses Bucky’s jaw in answer.

“There’s my good boy.” He tilts his head and Steve kisses him, slow and soft. Apologizes. “So good. I love that, Steve. I love you. What do you want?”

“I want to be good, daddy.”

“You are. Perfect boy. Ride daddy’s cock. Isn’t that what you wanted? Why we’re on the couch?Steve, wasn’t that the plan?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Well, let’s do that then,” he says, gently touching Steve’s back. He hums as Steve kisses him. soothing. Calming. Steve is being managed. He doesn’t need to be managed. It’s okay now.He’ll prove it to Bucky.

“I’ll ride you so good, daddy. Swear.” Bucky is under him, he gets his cock poking at Steve’s ass cheek, hesitates with his hand on the plug. He kisses Steve gently, licks his lip. He pulls back. There’s red on his daddy’s mouth.

“You’re bleeding.”

“You bit me. Feral boy. Daddy got you all wound up, didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Shh. I told you I wanted you frantic. I should have thought about how worried you’d be for me. I’m sorry. You’re so good.” The cuffs unclip. “Go ahead. Let’s see what you make of it. Get daddy’s cock in that greedy hole.” Steve sits up, hands on his daddy’s chest. He chews his lip. He shivers. It’s cold. His daddy is under him. Far away. If he’s warm, Steve can’t feel it. Why is he on top? Why is this happening?

“The plug. Will I lose you?”

“Never. Not _me_. My come? Probably.”

Steve opens his mouth, closes it again. He knows that. Doesn’t he? That his daddy and his come are different things. Obviously. _Obviously_, he can keep one with out the other. He goes back down, snuggles into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky wraps his arms around him. He chuckles softly. Steve can feel it reverberate through him. He loves his daddy so much.

“What, is it nap time? My tired, sweetheart.“

“Do you want me to ride you?”

“I want to make sure you don’t have a bad night. I want whatever will get a good, calm night for my sweet boy.”

“You… I need you to come in me.”

“Okay. Do you want to ride me?”

He shakes his head. Sobs. “I’m sorry. I can’t, daddy. I want to feel you surrounding me. I will, some other time. I will, daddy.”

“Good boy. It’s good to tell daddy what you need. I know you will.” 

Steve’s breath hitches in his chest. “Please fuck me in bed,” he says.

Bucky gets him to his feet, walks with him up the stairs, Steve tucked into his neck, kissing him and holding on tight.

“Good boy. Let me get your shirt.” He pulls it out from under Steve’s pillow, hands it to him. Steve clutches it close, buries his face in it. Instantly he feels better. More settled. Bucky rubs his back for a second. “So good, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck your ass in bed. Let me get you a pillow so you can relax and take it. You just need to lay there and be good.”

“Thank you, daddy.” He can do that. He can do that so well for his daddy, he realizes, sobbing in relief.

Bucky goes to his closet and comes back with a leather covered bump pillow and puts it on the bed. He reaches for Bucky, holds onto him and hugs him tight. He can’t stop the tears. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too. You were so good. So sweet. How’s your hole?”

“Hurts, daddy. You spanked it.”

“I did. Made me so hard. You’re going to get a great big load of come in your ass you made me so happy.” He grabs Steve’s ass, squeezes his cheeks and growls into his neck. “Feel daddy’s balls. You want that?”

He keeps one arm wrapped tight around his daddy, burrows closer and gets the other one down. His daddy’s balls are tight and hard. Full. “For me?”

Bucky laughs. “That’s right. Who’s my perfect slut?”

“I am.”

“Get onto the bed, sweetheart. I need to fuck you now. Precious boy.” He tries to move with Bucky and Bucky makes him let go, stays touching him while he gets him onto the bed and over the pillow. The plug comes out immediately and Bucky puts a finger inside him. Steve jerks and yelps.

“You’ll spill. Hold still and take what I give you. You’re done, Steve. You don’t make any more decisions tonight. You have no control but that’s okay. I’ve got it.”

He pants into the shirt. Sobs hard, surrenders to it. He doesn’t get to help his daddy. Not tonight and not on his mission. He doesn’t get to know. He has to trust him. Has to take surrender all of that just like he’s going to surrender now. “Please?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, warm and gentle. He kisses Steve’s back, drapes himself over him. Steve turns his head, tries to see Bucky out of the corner of his eye, face on the bed and the shirt. Hands fisted in it. Bucky kisses his jaw, his fingers between them as he gets the head of his cock to Steve’s hole.

“Oh!” He’s hot there. Bruised and sore at the rim. “Daddy. Scared,” he whispers. What if Bucky doesn’t come back? What if he gets hurt?

“I’ve got you. You don’t need to be. You’re with daddy now. Want to give a little push? Want me to be slow?”

“Yes, please.” It’s the softest sound.

“Oh, you’re my good boy now, aren’t you?”

“I love you, daddy.”

“Are you drifting away, already? I’m not even in you yet.”

“I missed you so much. You’ll be safe?”

“So safe. Good boy. I’m here. Sweetheart, I’m hard and need to come now. I’ve got you.”

It hurts, of course it hurts. Steve keens and tightens up. Bucky kisses his neck, cages him in with his arms. “Special boy. Relax and let me get my cock in you. You make daddy feel so good.” He thrusts, bites Steve’s shoulder hard as he fucks hard and gets the head in. Steve tries to close his legs, arches his back and his shoulder stings.

His passage throbs. Bucky is too big. He got spanked on his hole and he hurts so fucking bad now. “I’ll fuck you again in the night, babydoll. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the shower and you’ll pull the plug out and you’ll have so much come dripping out of you.”

“Daddy,” he begs.

“Shh, you feel so good. Can’t wait any longer. Good boy. Help daddy.” Bucky grunts and thrusts into him, short and sharp, gets seated. Steve’s eyes close and he gasps and soaks the shirt with tears. His mouth is open. “Do you feel small, honey?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Like my good boy? With your shirt and all those tears?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Do you need something to suck on? Something in your mouth?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers. “Your fingers?”

“Your fingers. Like this. I’ll help, sweetheart,” He takes Steve’s hand, gets his fingers all tucked, thumb out, presses it into Steve’s mouth. “There you go. Pretend that’s daddy’s cock. Suck on it while I fuck you. Something nice for me to think about. How you part your lips, rest it on your tongue. How hot and wet you are in there. Can you do that for me?”

He nods. He sucks, lets his eyes close. He whimpers with each thrust and the tears keep coming. It’s all a little far away. His daddy groans and comes with a hard slam, Steve’s ass clenching and throbbing. Steve’s twitching. Steve came, too. That’s good. His daddy likes that. His daddy goes soft, puts the plug back in.

Steve falls asleep. He wakes up to the plug being pulled out, to his daddy’s hard cock pressing into him. “Shh, easy now. Suck your thumb. Don’t move. I’ll be quick. Let daddy fill you up.”

He’s drooled everywhere. He takes his thumb out of his mouth. “Daddy? My shirt?”

“You’ve got it. You’re on it. Jesus you sure feel good baby. Get so tight so fast.”

Steve tries to breathe through it, grabs the shirt. “Suck daddy’s little cock. Show me.”

He’s so tired. His ass hurts and aches and the tears are already there. He can’t fight, doesn’t want to. He puts his thumb back in his mouth. His daddy moans and fucks him harder. He comes with a few hard thrusts, hands prying his cheeks open as he grinds deep. He pulls out, plugs him back up. He moves Steve off the bump pillow and gets him where he wants him, on the bed properly and in his arms. Steve goes back to sleep.

Bucky’s alarm goes off at 6am. “I’ll bring you coffee if you lay there a minute.”

“That’s convenient because I am never moving again,” Steve says. Last night is horrendously vivid in his mind. Figures. 

“Steve, are you alright?”

“I’m scared for you.”

Bucky kisses him and rubs his back. “You don’t need to be. Can we have lunch today? I don’t like the idea of you on your own all day. I want to check on you.”

“I’m not sure. If I can, I will.”

“If not, we can text, talk on the phone.”

He turns over, burrows close. “Daddy. I feel really tired and… kind of blank.”

“Hmm.” He rubs a hand up and down Steve’s back. “You showed up looking like sex on legs and jealous of Sam, desperate to get fucked and I went from ‘it’s a week night, let’s have take out’ to ‘I’m going to wreck my boy so good’ and yeah… sorry. In my defense, if you had seen how fucking incredible you looked, in subspace just from a quick fuck and getting put at my feet, you’d have felt pretty out of control, too.”

Steve kisses Bucky’s chest. “Is that how it works for you then? You react to me?”

“Maybe. Why? Is that bad?”

“No. You were just… before I had a breakdown, you said a lot of things. You always say a lot of shit but you were really trying to mind fuck me last night.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to give you an out. That was probably… not good on my part.”

“No, I’m not looking for an apology. It’s not even that it’s bad. It… I liked it. You drag me out to the edge so easily. And you spanked my hole. Hard, too. I liked it. Liked that you made sure I knew it was a good thing and got me all twisted around so I didn’t know what was going on. It was good until I… you know.”

“You’re my good boy and you were really vulnerable. My… upcoming obligation is stressful. We’ll not do anything too stressful until it’s over.” He kisses Steve on the nose.

“Is it really a party?”

Bucky freezes. Very rarely does he look surprised. Well, carefully blank, which gives him away as surprised.

“You said it was a party,” Steve reminds him. Apparently, that was a slip up.

“I’ll get you coffee. We’ll shower and have breakfast?” He says. “I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t say more.”

“Yeah. Is this how you count it as not lying to me?” he asks. It’s mean and unfair.

“It’s _dinner._ People should have a good time. I’ll be there, passing time until it’s over. That’s _all._”

“Okay.”

He gives Steve a kiss and goes down for coffee, comes back up and Steve is out of bed already. He’s peed and is brushing his teeth. There is nothing that can be done. That’s all there is to it. Well, he could see if there are any big parties in New York tonight. Which he will. Just in case. But, a dinner party is impossible to figure out. Bucky sets down coffee and a muffin.

Steve is starving. “Thanks.”

Bucky shrugs. “I get hungry, too. They’re super high calorie. Potato, egg, sausage and butter. The red dots are bell peppers. They’re in my freezer. If you ever need one.”

Steve takes his coffee and muffin to the bedroom and looks out the window while Bucky brushes his teeth and gets the shower ready. Bucky is always so cognizant of Steve’s food. How does he know to feed Steve so much? How hungry does he get? Bucky is strong. Really strong. He’d thought it was just the arm at first, but it isn’t. And as much as Bucky jokes about keeping up with Steve in the erection department, it isn’t an issue. His sex drive is pretty close to Steve’s. He drains his cup and sets down the empty plate. Goes back to the bathroom, arms crossed, leaning against the frame.

“How many calories do you need every day?”

“Why?” Bucky asks, giving him a smile.

“Just curious. You do a good job paying attention to my food needs is all.”

“4500? 5000?”

That’s a lot. “When do you go to the gym?”

“Usually the mornings. Sometimes lunch. I do long runs and boxing on the weekends. Or, I have lots of sex with my boyfriend. I’m excited to trade in a day of running for that. Okay, come on,” he orders. They get into the shower. It’s hot and steamy. Bucky has a hand towel with him. He folds it, puts it on the ground. “That’s for your knees. Down you go.”

“What?” He blushes.

“The plug is going to come out now. Forearm on the bench. Head down so you can see. You take out the plug and you can see how much come you worked out of me last night. Then you’re going to use it to jerk off. Twice. No stopping.”

“Fuck. Daddy.”

Bucky puts the towel down. Gestures. Steve obeys. Leaking already. His hand hovers between his cheeks. “What if I come when I pull it out?”

“Hair trigger strikes again?” Steve blushes and scowls at him. “You still have two orgasms with my come. That’s what I want.”

Steve’s cock drips. He’s going to come. Bucky’s spend is going to slide down his thighs and he’s going to come just from that. Bucky is waiting. He smacks Steve on the ass.

Steve whimpers and thrusts, grabs his balls so he doesn’t come from _that_, but it’s too late. He comes weakly, interrupted and too late to stop it, the end of his orgasm just dribbling out of him. He doesn’t go soft. His balls throb.

“Well, that answers that question,” Bucky says, and because he’s a fucking asshole, he laughs.

“Shit.” Steve growls. He’s annoyed at himself. He touches the plug and shivers, pulls it out, moaning as it comes free. Sleeping with the plug in has left him feeling weird inside. “Oh,” he gasps as the come pours out of him. “Oh my god. Daddy.” He grabs it in his hand and slaps it on his cock, jerks himself hard and fast, unbelievably desperate as he watches it trickle down his thigh. He comes torturously fast.

“There you go. Don’t stop.”

“Daddy!” He grunts at the discomfort. His hand is slick and come soaked. His daddy’s come. God, he can smell it in the shower. He’s steeped in it. Soaked. Utterly fucking soaked in come. He watches as it mingles together.

“Fuck, I’m going to come. _Bucky,_” he grits out.

Bucky is suddenly there, hand near his cock. “Come in my hand.” Steve comes again, shooting intoBucky’s hand, a small puddle of come.

“Oh god. Daddy. Daddy.”

“Good boy. Here you go. Swallow.”

What did he expect? He sucks it into his mouth, swallows it all. “Good. beautiful. Open. I’ll come in your mouth and on your face. My little come slut. Stew in it until daddy is done.” Bucky holds his jaw and Steve keeps his mouth open. Bucky comes quickly, hits Steve in the eyebrow and Steve closes his eyes and tries to jerk out of the way.

Bucky’s grip tightens. Spurts land in his mouth and Bucky moans. He finally lets Steve go. Steve swallows. “Good boy. Want me to wash you?”

“Daddy?”

“Come here. I made you filthy. Now I’ll make you clean.” Bucky helps him to his feet. “So sweet. What a good boy you are. You’re so messy, baby. So needy. I love it. Love you. Sweet babydoll,” he croons as he gets Steve all cleaned up. “Turn, let daddy clean your hole.”

He turns, Bucky’s fingers, wiping him free of come. He gets a finger in him. He’s open from the plug. “Tempting. Jesus. I woke up an hour earlier just so I could spend time with you and on you and it isn’t enough. God, I don’t want to be late. I can’t fuck you, sweetheart. Damn.”

“It’s okay. Let me know when you need me.” He offers his mouth for a kiss. Bucky kisses him. Steve is soft and biddable, lets his mouth be open, moans.

Bucky turns off the water. “Enema?”

He dresses and shaves while Steve gets filled up. Steve closes his eyes, content on a towel on the floor and Bucky sets his watch beside him. “Thank you, daddy.”

When Steve has to go to the bathroom Bucky is already downstairs making breakfast. He showers quickly because he likes to and then gets dressed. Bucky has a massive plate of food out for him and a shake. He has one for himself, too.

“Is it gross?”

“What?”

“The shake?”

Bucky snorts. “I want you to swallow so you will. But, no, it’s not that bad.”

Steve sits down to eat. “Will you call me or text me when you’re done for the night?”

“Want me to come over and fuck you? A booty call?”

He’s going to be Bucky’s booty call. An unreasonable amount of pleasure fills him at the idea. “Yes. Definitely.”

They kiss goodbye out on the front step and go their separate ways.

Everyone is pleased to see Steve the day after the mission and Maria brings chocolate chip cookies. It’s only when Nat drops him to the ground that he realizes Bucky made him suck his thumb like a child. Gave him a shirt like it was a fucking baby blanket. Called him a good _little_ boy.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lighter things tomorrow! this was darker and bucky was rougher and more out of control/boundary pushing. hopefully it didn't go too far....


	29. Chapter 29

He doesn’t meet Bucky for lunch. It isn’t convenient and he had random meetings to go to anyway. Bucky texts him and even calls and Steve does his best to sound like a mature, reasonable person who isn’t freaking out about Bucky’s assignment/dinner/party/whatever it is. Steve’s stressed and worried and there isn’t a damned thing he can do about it. He’s so pathetic he tries to do a search on events for the evening and comes up with nothing. It’s dinner. It’s a party. People will have a good time. That is literally all he knows.

Bucky will be armed.

Bucky told him not to worry but it’s impossible. He’s going to worry. And then there’s the _other _thing. This whole little boy/daddy thing. Age play. It’s age play! No. He texts Bucky at 4pm because he can’t take it anymore. “FYI- I want to add age play to my list of hard limits.”

His phone rings 10 minutes later. He’s just getting ready to go hit stuff in the gym. He’s beyond antsy and stressed out.

“Yeah,” he answers, gruff with worry.

“That’s a hell of a text.”

“Not really,” he says, flexing his hands and jumping in place a few times.

Bucky sighs. “I’m not talking about it with you right now, because I have to to this thing and my attention needs to be there. I will call you when it’s over and when I’m on my way home. Do you want to stay at my place?”

“No. I told you. After it’s done.” There’s definitely an unpleasant part of him that thinks Bucky deserves to see how it feels to be denied, too.

“Okay. Do you want me to come see you tonight?” He asks, like Steve might have changed his mind.

He should say no. It would serve him right. “Yes.”

“I won’t be mad if you don’t,” Bucky says.

“You know I do.” _Daddy._ He hates that he hasn’t said it. But they need to sort out this age play nonsense and he’s not saying daddy until they do. The whole daddy/boy thing, even calling Steve a good boy, is different than ‘let me get you some chicken nuggets while you suck your thumb’Sucks his fucking thumb. Steve wants to hit him. It’s just humiliating. “But, you have something tomorrow night, too. Right?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, carefully.

“Then you shouldn’t come over tonight. You should get a good night sleep. I want you to be alert and focused. I can’t believe I’m saying that. But, there it is. Just… be safe.”

Bucky sighs. “It’s going to be fine. Okay. That’s probably a sane way to approach things. And then it will be the weekend. Are you still my good boy? Not the shirt, the crying, the thumb, etc. Just you and me. You still want that with me?”

“Of _course_, I do. Yes…. daddy,” he whispers. “Just not _little_.” He has no way of knowing what Bucky thinks of that statement but he’s got a sneaking suspicion Bucky is rolling his eyes.

“Good. So do I. I love you. We’ll just take Age play out of the equation, pretend the whole thing didn’t happen. What are you going to do tonight?”

“I’m going to spar in the gym with this dick Rumlow.”

“Okay.”

“It’s that or go to some stupid thing for the UN and I hate shit like that.”

Bucky makes a hmm sound. “It’d be so weird to get invited to stuff like that.”

“It’s horrible. Lots of people ogle me and ask me questions that I have no good answer for. Or they try and give me a room key. I’m not going.”

“Well, don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“I won’t.” If anyone needs to worry, it’s Rumlow. “I love you, daddy.” Ugh, it’s such a relief.

“I love you, too.”

He hangs up the phone. He spars with Rumlow. He even goes with him to get a beer afterwards but Rumlow kept trying to shove girls his way and he’d finally just told him he was seeing someone and went home. Bucky texts him at one to tell him that things are fine and his job is done for the night and Steve’s so relieved he bursts into tears. He wants Bucky to come over. Bucky needs to sleep, be alert. Steve can survive one night without his daddy.

But, not like he’s a little child missing his _actual_ daddy. He chews on an uneven nail, realizes he might have a finger in his mouth. Fuck Bucky! Fuck his age play bullshit.

Steve sleeps like shit.

He comes in the next day and snaps at Natasha for giving him a ‘wow you look like crap’ look. She pours him a coffee anyway, while he devours two donuts like a pig. She hands him his coffee with a smile because she’s a better person than he is. He takes one sip of it and spits it out. “Is that salt?”

“Don’t be an asshole, then. And you should hurry.”

“For what?” He demands, and rinses his mouth with water. She is not a better person than he is.

“We’re talking about the UN thing. Everyone was there. Except for you. As usual.”

“And Rumlow.”

She rolls her eyes. “He wasn’t invited. You were. I looked lovely, thanks for asking.” She turns on her heel and walks out. Steve dumps his coffee and gets another one. He wanders into the conference room. Tony is talking. Of course.

“Start over,” Nat says, loudly.

Steve sits down next to her. Leans closer. “I’m sorry I was in a bad mood and I shouldn’t have snapped at you…. And I’m sure you looked amazing. Bucky is doing this thing and it might be dangerous and I’m losing my fucking mind.” 

She pats him on the arm. “I know. Now shut up and listen.”

“Why? What am I starting over for?” Tony asks. “Technically, _he’s_ late. His loss. And, you’re welcome for the donuts, Rogers. They’re for surviving the event you didn’t go to, but we have plenty.You’ve got powdered sugar right here,” he says, pointing to the corner of his mouth. Steve licks it absently. God, he hates Tony so much.

“Tell Steve about your dilemma,” she says, like she’s talking to a two year old. She looks at them both and Steve scowls.

Tony sighs, dramatically. “Well, alright.” He takes a sip of coffee first, making them all wait.It’s going to be something stupid like his name isn’t big enough somewhere or how he bought a new plane. Steve groans, audibly.

“He doesn’t want to hear it,” Tony says, petulantly.

“I don’t want to hear it either, so amen,” Clint says and offers Steve a fist bump. Steve fist bumps.

Tony throws his pen in the air and it hits the table.“You’re such an asshole, Rogers. Why do people think you’re nice?”

“I genuinely have no idea,” Steve says. He’s pretty sure he’s never done anything in his life to indicate that he has a winning personality. Natasha glares at him.

Tony sits down. “Let’s just get on with it.”

“You’re going to regret it,” Natasha says, mumbling out of the corner of her mouth.

How? How could he possibly regret not hearing whatever nonsense Tony is bitching about now. He sighs. “Tell me. I want to hear it,” he says, sounding very uninterested.

“Please,” Natasha says, quietly.

He turns to her. “Fuck you.”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t happening that way.”

Steve goes red. “Please, tell me,” he says, to Tony. Whatever Tony has to say has suddenly become a hell of a lot more preferable than Natasha’s barbed innuendos of who’s fucking who in his relationship.

Tony looks around, moves his head like he’s one of those bobble things on Clint’s desk. “All I’m saying, and you know, just because it’s _polite_, and I would _definitely_ allow someone to see my experimental technology if they had something equally good to show, is that it’s rude, when you’re in a visiting country to not share information. I mean, have they seen what I do? The things _I’ve_ invented? Of _course_ they have. She’s probably worried I’d show her up. And that’s fair. I’m a genius. She’s a child. But, I’d be nice about it.”

He looks at Nat. What the fuck does he want to hear this for?

“Start earlier,” Nat says. “He has no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“I still don’t care. Am I right or am I not wrong?” Clint says, to Steve, offering another fist bump. Steve does it.

“Fuck you both. I’m leaving,” Tony says.

“Yeah, forget it. Steve’s being an asshole,” Nat says, glaring at Steve.

“Wait. No. I’m sorry. Go on. I’m listening. Here. Up top,” Steve says, and offers Tony a fist bump.

Tony purses his lips. “It’s not right. There is no ‘up top’ for a fist bump. But, what the hell. It’s cute. I’m included. I like that. Much like I _should have been included_ in the conversation about beautiful, robotized, mechanical, weaponized arms. Or any limbs, really. I don’t discriminate. Legs are good. I’d ogle a nice metal leg, too.”

Steve leans forward. “Wait. _What?_” He demands.

“There you go,” Nat mutters. “Sometimes I think you couldn’t find your ass in a snowstorm.”

He looks to Nat, then away. “Metal arm?” He asks, Tony.

“Yes, incredible. These things are always so fucking boring, you know? Nothing interesting ever happens. But, this time the Wakandan Royal Family is here for a few days and you know, isolationist, vibranium, I’m intrigued enough to start a conversation with the princess and treat her like an intellectual equal although she’s only a youngun.”

“For the love of _fuck_, tell me about the god damned arm!” Steve practically yells.

Tony huffs. “This is the thing other people don’t see. They think you’re nice, all ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘don’t drive drunk’, ‘eat your veggies and wear a condom,’ and they they ask us ‘where’s Captain America? Why isn’t he here?” Tony says, theatrically.

“Who’s the guy with the bow and why doesn’t he get a gun?” Clint interjects.

“Exactly,” Tony says, pointing at Clint and then swinging his finger to Steve. Steve almost says, ‘don’t point your finger at me’ but he doesn’t. “But, you’re a _jerk_.A total jerk. And so impatient. The princess is there and she has a bodyguard with a metal arm and he was armed to the fucking teeth. And no one let _me_ bring weapons in. I _make_ weapons. My _mind _is a weapon! I did, of course. Nothing so obvious as her security detail, but Jesus. I mean, if it’s gonna be one guy I guess you want him to look the part, but it was excessive.”

Steve looks at Natasha, desperately.

“He’s getting there. Stay with it,” she says, squeezing Steve’s shoulder.

“So, he’s got this metal arm, which is very pretty to look at and has incredible mobility, I think. But, I can’t get a look at it. It’s his hand and is integrated into the shoulder. The whole thing, metal! I almost wonder if it’s part of him, like his spinal column or something. So, I ask. Maybe she wants to come by Stark Tower, bring the dude with the arm and we can talk shop. She says no. She won’t tell me a damned thing. I invited her into my _home_. And he didn’t say a word.”

“Is the Tower a home?” Clint asks, absently.

“What did he look like?” Steve asks, hands already beginning to sweat.

“Who can tell? Armed, leather wearing in an ‘I might be an assassin or just a leather fetishist’ sort of way. And he had a mask and goggles. It was rather terrifying, whenever I managed to catch sight of him. He was always there, but hiding at the same time. Like Bob from Twin Peeks. You know Bob?” Tony scratches his head like he’s stumped.

No, he doesn’t know Bob. “Have you ever seen him before?” Steve asks. Like in my apartment, he doesn’t ask.

“Uh, no. I’d remember a metal arm, Captain Obvious.” What a dick.

“He could have had his hand in his pocket… or have been wearing gloves, if you saw him before,” Steve asks. He’s pretty sure Bucky already had his gloves on when he was at Steve’s.

Tony shrugs. “I presume he’s Wakandan. White Wakandan. Princess Shuri called him the White Wolf. Being as I’ve never been to Wakanda, no, I don’t think I’ve met him. Jarvis, can you find a picture of this scary man with his beautiful arm?”

There’s a moment of silence. “No, sir. I’m not sure how he’s managed it but I can’t find anything with him in it, despite the press taking photographs at the event.”

Figures.

“This is the kind of thing you miss out on when you stay home all on your lonesome, Rogers,” Tony says. 

Steve glares at him. Tony does a weird pace closer. Kind of like a saunter but also like a duck. “You know, there’s a gala tonight at Stark Tower. You did get an invite. You didn’t respond, of course. You have no manners. Invented in 1946, I guess. But, you’re welcome to attend. It’s for the Royal Family. Jarvis, will the White Wolf be attending?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s black tie and—“

“Yes, I’ll go.”

Tony shuts up in surprise. There’s a fucking relief.

He hears Nat snort. He gives her a look. Her face is carefully blank. “Were you there?” He demands.

“No.”

“Yes, you were,” Clint says. “In fact, you talked to him. I saw you.”

“Nat?” He growls.

She puts her hands up. “I know nothing. I saw nothing… you should get a tux. Tony, would you be able to get Steve a really nice tux on such short notice?” 

Tony pops up like a dog at attention. “Yes, I would. Of course. Happy to.”

Steve looks at his watch. It’s 9am. “When is the party?” He asks. He throws a glare at Natasha. “I’ll fucking show him.”

“Seven,” Tony says.

“Here we go,” Nat says.

“I can’t go like this. I need more than a tux. And I don’t want a normal, boring tux. What about velvet? Can I get a velvet jacket? And, I want a haircut. I should get a manicure.”

“It’s like Cinderella,” Nat says, to Clint.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Clint mumbles. 

“He’s an animal lover,” Nat whispers, “Got a hard on for the White Wolf.”

Clint nods. “Kinky. I like it. We’ll call it Operation DTF.”

Steve smacks his hand on the table. Everyone looks surprised. He’s also a little surprised. “Yes, I want to be fucking irresistible. Definite DTF vibes but multiplied.”

“I’ll come along for part of this transformation, turning you into the most fuckable belle of the ball as I want a pedicure, but I’m not waxing anything. I get enough pain in my life,” Natasha says.

“Wait. No,” Tony says, sounding genuinely unhappy. He looks at Nat, back to Steve. “I thought we’d decided it was good that it was over? Steve, we can’t encourage this. It’s done. You need to move on and if that’s the reason you’re going tonight, then you should think again. Nat?”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks. Tony is going to get him a tux. Tony is going to help him look so fucking good he’s going to drive Bucky wild. He gets to be there. Bucky will be safe. How does Bucky know the Wakandan Royal Family? Princess Shuri? So many questions and yet, the only thing that matters is that this event tonight is _safe_. And Steve will be there. _And _he’s on a personal mission to seduce his boyfriend… at a public event. God, he really is kinky. Maybe his apartment at the Tower is better than finding a bathroom or a supply closet.

“Steve, we’re your friends,” Tony says, and Steve’s eye twitches because it’s so fucking patronizing, but he doesn’t say anything because tux. He tries to pay attention. “You’re relationship with Sharon wasn’t good. You’ve been so happy. Let it go. I thought you were seeing someone else?”

“Sharon? What does Sharon have to do with anything?” Steve asks. God, Tony is so stupid.

“Oh yeah. Sharon was there,” Nat says, and takes a sip of her coffee.

Steve gasps. 

“Oh. Was that a mic drop? Boom!” Clint says.

Steve hates all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this amused you and didn't wind up being a giant letdown. I've been trying to say it wouldn't be angsty but hopefully it wasn't too pathetic of a resolution. I don't know if I'll be able to post tomorrow. the next scene is more lightheartedness and actually Bucky's pov and it's giving me some trouble. I guess if you hate this chapter really don't let me know bc then I'm super screwed! anyway, hopefully it was as funny as I wanted it to be :)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember, low angst is the name of the game.... But, it does mean you're gonna have to go with it a bit.

Oh, he’s gonna get the fucking tux alright. He doesn’t just get a tux. He manages to get a facial and a sugar scrub and a sauna treatment. He moves up his waxing appointment and he gets his nails done.Shaped, buffed and a clear coat.

It would be perfect if Tony wasn’t there for half of it. Steve gets a haircut while something weirder happens to Tony’s facial hair. He gets a sugar scrub and Tony won’t shut up about possibly having nano something or others that could eat dead skin. Tony gets a manicure and pedicure and brings Pepper along, who then shows up with Maria and Nat. Clint is stuck lurking in the doorway, but once everyone is sitting in chairs, he comes in like a stray dog lured in to a warm fire.

It’s weird. It might be nice.

Everyone looks at him.“Steve you look so… refreshed,” Peppers says.

“Like a movie star,” Clint says, popping his gum. It doesn’t sound much like a compliment. He’s always liked Clint.

“What, you got a date? This isn’t because Sharon is here, is it?” Maria demands.

Steve pretends not to hear her. He turns to Nat. She’s staring into a basket of nail polish and refuses to look at him.

“She’s only here for a few days, Steve. She looks great. Don’t even think about it,” Maria says.

“Yeah, Steve. Don’t think about it,” Nat says, blandly, still looking at colors.

“I am _not _thinking about it,” he says.

Maria winces. “Well, good. Because she’s really happy without you. And, I hate to tell you, but the amount of time you have spent today… pampering yourself makes me think she was onto something, if you know what I mean.”

“I thought she already told you I was gay?” Steve asks.

“Cap’s gay?” Clint asks no one.

“Yes, I know already, because we’re good friends,” Tony says, smugly, leaning around to speak to Clint.

Pepper looks up from her bright pink toes. “Congratulations, Steve. That’s great. I already knew because of the night of the drinking. She didn’t tell me, but that song, He Likes Boys was on repeat for an hour.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Tony demands. “I told you what I heard on the plane.”

“Yes, but that’s just because you’re a gossip,” Pepper says, smiling at him fondly.

Tony grumbles and chooses a bright red color for his toes. Clint’s mouth hangs open. “Are you really going to get your toes painted the color of the suit?”

Oddly enough, it makes Steve like Tony more. It’s even odder to think he’s now out to the people he works with. And that they’re all getting their nails done together. He can practically hear Bucky telling him these are his friends and he should be nice and make effort. Bucky would be very pleased if he told him. He’d probably get some kind of a reward for being good. He realizes he’s zoned out, because Tony suddenly shouts, “Metal arm guy is hot, too?”

“What?” Steve demands.

Maria gives him a look like he’s crazy.

“Sorry. Just… what did you say?” Steve asks.

“I said Sharon had to work with the Wakandan Princess’ private security and he’s super hot and… there may have been some jokes about the metal hand.” Steve goes pale. Sharon spent yesterday with Bucky and wants him? No. Bucky met Sharon yesterday and didn’t fucking tell him? Yes, he knows it’s a secret, but it’s Sharon. The temptation to go see Bucky and demand answers is almost overwhelming.

But, Steve is a tactician. He likes planning and strategies. He’s going to see Bucky tonight and he’s going to look so fucking good that Bucky is going to lose his mind, but that’s not actually good enough. As soon as his nails are done Steve leaves, needing to run a few errands before the event. He promises to meet back at the tower in an hour and heads out. He’s got to find a sex shop. And a grocery store.

He gets back to his apartment at Stark Tower and his tux is there. Tony maybe isn’t that bad. He does his enema and plans out the best case scenario for the evening, which is him managing to get fucked by Bucky, not have Sharon know, and for everything to go off without a hitch. Seems impossible. At 5pm he calls Bucky. It’s just about to go to voicemail when he answers.

“Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” He asks, softly.

Steve instantly feels warm and happy. “Good. How was your day?”

Bucky sighs. There’s a long moment of silence. “Do you ever think that the universe has a very sick sense of humor?”

“I was frozen for decades. Pretty sure I know the answer.”

Bucky makes a hmm sound. “Anyway, I wish I could tell you. I really fucking do. I’d much rather be home with you tonight.”

“Oh. I won’t be there. I’m going out. With friends.”

“Who?” Bucky asks, “Where?” 

“Why?”

“Curious.”

“Rumlow. We went to a pub after sparring yesterday.”

“Uh huh. I thought Rumlow was a dick?”

“Maybe. Packs a punch, I tell you.” He’s not even sure what he means by that, but it’s got enough attitude because Bucky sighs and says, “Steven.” He sits up. “Did you just call me _Steven?”_

“Did you just try to make me jealous?”

“I did. I’m sorry. I’m not going out with Rumlow,” he says, trying to do Bucky’s ‘I’m so sweet and nice,’ voice.

Bucky waits.

Steve waits. “You know what, I better go,” Steve says.

“Hang on, hang on. You didn’t tell me where you were going tonight or with who.” 

“Just a thing at the Tower for the Wakandan Royal Family. Usually, I blow these things off but you know what, you’re right, these are my friends and I should be more involved so I thought… what the hell. Isn’t that great?”

There’s a very long beat of silence. Steve goes in for the kill. “These things get so boring so I was _thinking_ I might make it a little more interesting. You know how you keep threatening to lock me up?”He waits. There’s no response. “I figured I could try it tonight. This big party and I’ll be locked up under my tux… I hope I don’t leak everywhere. I guess I’ll be able to tell you how it went when I see you… tomorrow night?”

“You’re a brat. I have to go,” Bucky says, quietly.

“Wait! Quick question. I don’t want to come but I’m too hard for the cage. How do I get it on?”

There’s a heavy sigh. “Ice, Steve. Have at it.”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

“Steve,” he says, very seriously, “I understand that you have a plan here, but I’m asking you, no I’m begging you, don’t send me a picture. Please, don’t do… this. I’ll be turning off my phone soon and… I have to work. I can’t.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing you always tell me. That’s not my problem. I’m sorry it’s a problem for you, but I’m feeling selfish.” He hangs up the phone.

***

Bucky stares at his phone. How is this happening to him? Natasha saunters over. She’s wearing a dark red cocktail dress and her hair is done up with some sticks he’s positive could kill a man very easily. She’s grinning. “You look like you’re about to puke.”

“He’s a fucking asshole. And, you look amazing. Frightening and amazing.”

She laughs. Dark and very amused. “Thank you. And yes, he is an asshole. You have no idea. I can’t believe no one else knows. What did he do, tell you about his waxing?”

“Waxing? No.”

“Do you like my nails? We all got our nails done. There has been a lot of preparation for this party if you know what I mean.” There’s a hint of warning there. A don’t fuck this up and hurt Steve’s feelings.

“I-- I’m _working_. I want to kill him. He wants to make a point and that’s… I get it. But, I can’t do anything about it. And, when he gets no response for being a… brat and looking so damn hot, it’s going to crush him. You have to talk to him. He can’t do this.”

She raises her hands. “Don’t look at me. Go talk to Shuri.”

“What am I going to say?”

“Tell her you have a very needy boyfriend who will have a mental breakdown if you can’t bang his brains out during the Royal Wakandan Reception at Stark Tower.” She nods a little. “That’s a hell of a thing. And so him. You know, he is an asshole, but I kind of love him for this. He’s such a disaster.”

“Hey, that’s _my_ disaster you’re talking about.” He feels like he should defend Steve, although this does have disaster written all over it. Steve, ‘sure I’ll get injected with a serum’ and ‘sure I’ll crash a plane to save the city’ Rogers, is back at it again.

She grins. “And more power to you.” 

He runs his hand through his hair absently.

“Tell Shuri that I’ll be standing in for you. If anything happens, I’ll let you know. But, nothing is going to happen and you know it. It’s Stark Tower. And, the CIA, the FBI, SHIELD, the whole damned world is going to be here tonight to make sure this goes fine. _And,_ Shuri has lots of other people there to protect her.”

“Yes, but they’re not me. We went through a lot together,” he says.

“So, Steve doesn’t know?” she asks.

“How much do you know?” he asks, curious.

She shrugs. “I don’t know much beyond the fact that there were rumors she was kidnapped a few years ago. And that she was rescued.” He waits. She doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

“You’re a better liar than he is, but that doesn’t say much.”

“Hey, that’s my disaster you’re talking about,” he says, again.

“You just like saying it.”

“I do. It’s pathetic. He’s moving in. We should have you over for dinner.” Steve is the best. This is going to be a shit show of epic proportions, but he’s so sweet. And he went out and got waxed and got his nails done to impress his daddy. What a _good_ boy. If Bucky doesn’t think about the rest of Steve’s plan, it’s frankly, just adorable.

“I’ll invite Tony.”

“Good. I’ll blame you.”

“Go tell Shuri. She’ll be happy that you’re happy.”

Bucky rubs his hand over his eyes. Shit. He goes to find Shuri. He hasn’t bothered with his mask. He walks into the room and hears Tony talking to her, about his metal arm no less, and then the conversation stops. Tony’s mouth hangs open. “Aren’t you Steve’s friend?”

And, of course, Sharon is there. “Tony, this is Dr. Barnes. Dr. Barnes, this is Tony Stark. He’s our therapist. _Was_ our therapist when Steve and I were together.”

Tony opens his mouth, closes it again. There’s a definite fish gasping for air thing going on. “Manicure….” Tony says, slowly, as if he’s never said the word before. “DTF vibes…. _Where’s Natasha_?” He doesn’t even say goodbye, just looks around frantically as he practically runs from the room.

“There’s my favorite white boy,” Shuri says. “Don’t wear the buckles and the leather. Wear the tux I brought you.”

He rolls his eyes. They’ve had this conversation. He’s protecting her. He wants to look the part. “And, you shouldn’t wear the mask. It’s too much. No one looked at me last night because they were having horrible, depraved fantasies about you.”

“Very funny.”

“No, it is not funny,” Shuri says. “And if you decide you want to do more protecting, particularly in the bedroom, I have phone numbers for you. Americans are shameless.”

“That’s highly upsetting,” Bucky says. She nods in agreement. “I have a personal problem I need to discuss with you. It shouldn’t take long.”

She looks concerned. “What is it?”

“I’m seeing someone. It’s complicated. But, he’s going to be here tonight and he doesn’t know about us or how we met and he’s….” How does he finish that sentence? It’s not that Steve is jealous, although he kind of is. There’s a fair amount of anger in there and stubbornness, but it’s pretty clear that what Steve really wants is for Bucky to come clean about his past, beg for forgiveness and fuck Steve’s brains out during the middle of the party. While he’s working. “He’s _Dramatic._ Perfect. He is perfect but he’s also… he’s stubborn. He knows I’m doing something here and I haven’t been able to tell him what, and he’s going to spend the night trying to make my life miserable and distract me from my job so I’ll do obscene things to him in the bathroom.”

“Good for him. And you. What is your job?” she asks, with a sly smile.

“Protecting you.”

She waves a hand. “Everyone protects me. Who is this perfect boyfriend of yours? It sounds serious.”

“It is serious, actually. Um, it’s also a secret,” he says, because Sharon is literally across the room. “I met him through work, as a client.”

Shuri fiddles with her bracelet. “That sounds highly unethical.”

“Yeah, it is.”

She shrugs. “He must be something. That doesn’t sound like you,” she says, frowning a little. She looks at Sharon.

“Yeah, fuck it. It’s Steve Rogers. Captain America.”

“Oh. That makes sense. He is a _very_ attractive man. Even if he is very pale.” She frowns harder, looks around the room. “Did you start seeing him when he was with Sharon? Oh, James,” she says, shaking her head.

“No! I mean, it wasn’t _good_ timing. But, _technically_, I did not start seeing him until their relationship was over.”

“Oh. Good. What’s the problem?” She asks, waving to someone across the room.

He winces. “The problem is, he doesn’t know about our past—“

“You should tell him,” she says, like he’s an idiot.

“It’s confidential. It’s not my secret to tell.”

“You lost your arm defending my life. It’s your story, too. Tell him.”

“Well, that’s not the contract I signed.” He feels like he’s in the Twilight Zone or something. These are real problems and no one cares. Is everyone on drugs? Can he get some? Maybe he should buy a lottery ticket or something. It seems like every possible problem is just… resolving.

She waves a hand. “I don’t care. Tell him. And… then you can go have fun. I don’t need you. I don’t want you guarding me. Honestly, I want you to live your life and be happy.”

He hugs her. She hugs him back. “Thank you. Natasha will keep an eye on you for me.”

“Does _she_ know that you’ll be seducing Captain America tonight?” Shuri asks, and he’s pretty sure she has fixated on the wrong thing.

He sighs. “Yes. She knows… but, that’s not… this isn’t that.” Mainly because Steve is a sure thing and he’s pretty sure no one would call it _seduction_ if they knew the details. Thank god no one knows the details. 

“So, I will have someone to talk to as it unfolds. Are you going to do obscene things to him during the middle of the party? This is very exciting. There is a handicapped bathroom at the end of the—”

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks.” He blushes. This is outrageous. And shouldn’t everyone be taking this more seriously? Shuri taps her lip, thinking. That’s always a bad sign. “Don’t,” he says.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I can’t _even_ imagine. But, whatever it is, don’t even _think_ about it.”

“I was just thinking that if there was some way to get Sharon out of here or to be okay with it, everything would be easier. Is that not true?”

“It would be easier, but she could make it so I lose my license. So, I’m begging you to leave it alone.”

“James, you are like a brother to me. Better, because you don’t control my life, so I will leave it alone…. Unless I can fix it.”

“Jesus Christ. No.”

“There must be something she wants. It’s a shame it isn’t Tony Stark. A bit of vibranium or a trip to Wakanda and everything would be fine.”

“You can’t solve it. It isn’t your problem. Leave it alone.”

“Fine. Introduce me to your boyfriend tomorrow before we go. Bring him for breakfast.”

“I can do that.”

“In that case, consider yourself relieved of duty. Frankly, Okoye will be glad. She likes you but got annoyed. She likes to be the biggest badass in the room.” She moves in to hug him again. He hugs her back.

“Maybe Ms. Carter would like to be an ambassador.”

“Shuri, no!”

She grins at him. It’s evil. “Do you need a different outfit? You look like an assassin.”

“No. Trust me. This is the right outfit.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” she murmurs, and goes to find Okoye.

***

By the time the party is close to starting, Bucky is actually nervous. Really, really nervous. Tony keeps touching his arm and muttering about how amazing it is, and he’s already agreed to bring Steve to dinner next weekend. Steve is going to kill him. Natasha keeps smiling at him. But, not in a friendly way, more like she’s planning on killing him and is going through the possibilities of where to dump his body. Which makes it sound mean. She’s not mean. She’s excited. Steve keeps texting her and then Bucky gets elbowed as she leans in to give him a running commentary.

He should never have encouraged Steve to get friends. “He’s already asked me if you’re here. What should I say?”

“I don’t know.”

“He wants to know if you get a break. What should I say.”

“I don’t know.” He thinks about that some more, instead of answering automatically. “Wait. Tell him no.” She texts Steve back. Why is it so stressful?

Her phone buzzes. She gasps. She doesn’t say anything. She pops her gum. “Jesus. _What?_” He demands.

“Nothing. You said you didn’t want to know.” She’s evil. He takes it back.

“I do now. _What?_” He growls.

“He said,” she holds up the phone and reads it to him. “‘If you wanted to have sex and not get caught, where would you go?’”

“He’s hopeless. He _asked_ you that?” Bucky scowls. He’s uncomfortably hard already. Steve is going to get it, that’s for sure. “Wait. He has an apartment here. He doesn’t want to have sex in his own apartment?”

She shrugs. She’s texting. Bucky bites back a question. He isn’t going to ask. This is _weird_. He shouldn’t know Steve’s plans to try and seduce him. He’s going to pretend like he doesn’t… while he pretends to be working and isn’t.

“You know you’re ruining the surprise. He’d probably be annoyed.”

“If you don’t do this right, he’s going to be devastated. I’m actually helping. Besides, I’m not reading you everything.”

Things are either going to go well or they’re really, really not. Her phone buzzes. She snorts. Bucky counts to 10. “What?” He asks, giving in. It’s hopeless. And, he is curious. His baby is so cute.

“He said he wants it to be _illicit_.”

“Illicit?” He wonders if Steve wanted to write naughty but didn’t dare. Probably. God, his baby is adorable. He’s going to fuck him so hard. “Wait. What are you going to say?”

“What should I say?”

He thinks about the building layout. Weirdly enough he’s reminded of the fact that Steve’s actually gotten off at one of these Tower parties before. When he was with Sharon. His baby had tried so hard, been so proud that he was going to fuck her in the bathroom like he _should_. Hadn’t Steve said he’d tried figging?

What had he said? That he’d loved it and it had been a one off thing he’d never let himself do again because he wanted to be miserable and het? Can Bucky get ginger before this thing starts? “Is there a grocery store in the Tower?” he asks.

She gives him a look. “You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“He’s telling you the same things! And I just asked a question.”

She hums. “No, it’s different. I’m gonna go with my gut. He’s cute. Whatever you’re planning… yeah, it’s on the 5th floor.” That was definitely one of the most uncomfortable moments of his career. The client is crying and he’s imagining him with ginger up his ass and a hard-on. “What do I say?”

“Text back bathroom but as a question?” Sex in a public bathroom is always a good idea. And _illicit, _apparently.

“Um, okay.”

Her phone buzzes again. “Oh, that’s nice. He’s worried you’ll be seen on the way out.”

“That _is _nice. Tell him I should be fine… I hope he has lube.”

She texts. “What’s the deal with your friend Sam?” she asks, when she’s done.

Bucky gives her a look. “What’s your opinion on being called mistress?”

“Favorable.”

“I’ll give him your number.”

“Eh. Give me _his _number.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Bucky jokes. Her phone buzzes. “What’s he say now?” He tries leaning closer, she shifts the phone away. He pouts.

“He says he has lube and… finger. Finger? That’s too much information.” Her phone buzzes. “Oh, it was auto-correct. He meant to say ginger. Is that better?”

“That… that is not better,” Bucky says. Plus, that was his half assed plan. Now what? And why is he wearing leather? It is so fucking hot in this room and no one is even there yet.

Her phone buzzes. Her voice is flat as she reads. “Forget I said that. TMI.”

“For-got-ten,” she says, slowly, typing it out, and presses send. He watches her send a winky face. Her phone buzzes. “He just asked me if I want to get lunch on Monday,”She gives Bucky a soft smile. “He’s so cute. I think he’s going to tell me lots of obscene things about your sex life.”

“Oh my god.” Bucky is so proud of Steve he can’t hardly stand it. 

Her phone buzzes, she reads the message aloud. “‘See you soon. Tony is here to check my outfit.’ He spelled it all out. That’s adorable.” Bucky unzips his leather jacket a little. It’s too warm. God. How many hours has Steve spent getting all dolled up for him? It’s unbearable. He wants to leave here and just go fuck Steve immediately. Lick him and bite him all over. He doesn’t know if he wants to rip his clothes off or take them off slowly. He hopes Steve hasn’t put the ginger in yet. He wants to eat him out in the bathroom. Although it would be worth a burning tongue to see Steve react. He’s going to be a fucking mess. How is he going to get Steve out of here? Maybe the cage will keep him from going into subspace. Oh god, Steve is going to be locked up. He’s going to be so wet.

Thank fuck he isn’t working.

Natasha elbows him in the ribs. “God, earth to you.” She points and Bucky looks to the door. Tony comes in, sees Nat and Bucky. He’s grinning. He looks a little pole-axed. “He invited me over for dinner,” he says, practically swooning. “And, I didn’t tell him that you’d already invited me. I felt so stealthy. God, he looks _great_. My tailor has done an amazing job. It’s the material. Although, you wouldn’t think velvet would look good as a tuxedo jacket, but it really does.”

“What?” Bucky demands, flatly.

“It’s very tasteful. Makes his eyes look really blue.”

“When the hell does this thing start?” Bucky asks, looking at his watch.

“Twenty minutes.” Natasha says.

“I’ll be back,” Bucky grumbles. He needs a fucking plan. His mind is blank. There is no plan or even a hint of a plan. He needs to cool the fuck down. He should jerk off. Talk about a hair trigger. Steve would love it if Bucky finally came before he did. He’d be smug, forever. Fuck. He really, really hopes he can make this good for Steve.


	31. Chapter 31

By the time Steve is ready to go downstairs, he’s second guessing himself. Big time. He’s scared to use the cock cage. It feels like something his daddy should do. His daddy is the one who wants him in the cage and he knows for a fact Bucky would want to see him cry and struggle with how awful the cage is. Steve is really only excited about the cage because he’d get so much fucking praise for it and be told how good he is for enduring.

Now he’s going to get none of the good stuff but he will get the cage and it’s all for what? To spite his daddy? He’s taking away his daddy’s pleasure to make a point?

He doesn’t want to do that. He can’t bring himself to put it on. Is that cowardice? A convenient excuse so he doesn’t have to do what he doesn’t want to do?

And then there’s the ginger. The ginger that he’d gone to the store, bought and peeled and is now staring at worriedly. It’s going to make him desperate. Desperate and needy and whiny. He’ll likely turn into a sobbing mess the moment he sees Bucky if he has it in him, and it makes him wonder if he’d be doing it for Bucky or for himself.

It’s something he’s recreating because he experienced it with Sharon. An intense sexual experience he had that kind of highlighted how alone he was and which he wants to experience with the man he loves. But, Bucky knows he did this with Sharon. Is Bucky going to be annoyed? 

He’s not actually doing any of this for Bucky, he realizes. Bucky is working. Bucky is doing his thing, his one off obligation he didn’t expect to occur and which is occurring and Steve is just trying to co-opt it. It’s the _Royal Wakandan Family_ for fuck’s sake, and is clearly an obligation Bucky takes seriously. Hell, he lost an arm for it. And Steve wants to go down there and make this about him getting his rocks off?

It’s enough to make him not want to go at all. He shouldn’t go. He’s almost positive that the right thing to do is to stay here and stay out of the way. And Bucky is probably worried about it and maybe even upset at him for being such a brat. He sits down on the couch, undoing the button of his lovely, blue velvet jacket and staring at his phone as he thinks of what to say. His nails are nice. One of the many things about him that are very, very nice and are all for naught. This isn’t about him. As long as Steve keeps the focus on what’s best for Bucky all will be fine.

He’ll cancel and then eat lots of ice cream and sob into Bucky’s shirt. Which is at Bucky’s. Fuck everything.

“Something has come up. Not going to make it,” he texts.

A few minutes goes by. His phone rings. Steve can hear people in the background. That heavy murmur of conversation that just means there are a lot of people around. Then it goes quiet as Bucky leaves the area. “Steve? What’s going on?”

Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ. He is _not_ going to cry. He isn’t. That’s just ridiculous and pathetic and he refuses. “Nothing serious. Just a change of plans,” he says, and that’s pretty steady and normal, actually.

“What change of plans?”

He doesn’t want to lie. “Avenger stuff.”

“Who will you be with?”

“Nat?” It sounds too much like a question.

“Does that mean I won’t see you tonight?”

“I guess not,” he says, and goes to get a tissue. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You do your thing.”

“Stevie?”

He takes a deep breath. Grabs another tissue. “I just realized I was being a punk and making this about me and it isn’t. Go do your one off obligation. I know you’re safe and that’s all that really matters.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and he hangs up. There’s a knock on Steve’s door. God, it’s probably Tony and he’s definitely about to just go sob in his bed and the last thing he wants to do is answer it.

“Open the damn door, Steve,” Bucky calls.

“Shit.” Steve goes to the door, opens it. He has no words. There is literally nothing to say. His mouth has gone dry. His dick is hard. Thank god he didn’t put that fucking cage on. “Daddy?” He asks, looking at him and all the leather and the… leather. The arm glints in the light. He can see at least three knives and… is it possible that every fantasy he had is now being completely rewritten to incorporate leather and straps and… knives? Bucky takes a step closer. Steve takes a step back. Good god, he’s hot. Wait. Why is he here?

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” Steve swallows. His hand lifts, wants to snag on the strap near his waist and cling onto him. He doesn’t. “You look so beautiful, baby. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you coming to the party?”

“You… you’re working. I was being selfish.” He winces. “Naughty. The definition of naughty. And, maybe narcissistic.” 

Bucky reaches out to him, touching his face and then sliding it down the material appreciatively. “You’re coming to this party. You look so fucking good in that jacket. You’re going to go down there so I can show you off and then I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.” Steve bumps into a wall. It moved. He doesn’t know how or when, but somehow Bucky has been moving closer and he’s been moving back and now he’s against a wall.

Bucky grins at him. “You know, one of these days I could wear this and you could put on your Captain America outfit and I’m thinking we could have a pretty good time, babydoll.”

“Yes. That’s… yeah, I want that. Um, you’re working tonight,” Steve whispers and grabs onto Bucky, hands sliding through the leather straps, tugging him closer. “Fuck, I love this.”

“Good. Well, maybe. It’s not something you’re going to see all that much of unless it’s by special request.”

“There’s a special request,” he says, dumbly and touches him all over. Bucky actually snaps at him to get his attention.

“I’m not working. I talked to Shuri. In typical Shuri fashion, she was very unconcerned and has decided to solve the problem by telling me to go spend time with you instead.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yes, you have to come with me tomorrow morning to have breakfast with her and T’Challa, but otherwise, yes, I’m off the hook. And, if we make it to the party, we should say hi.”

“I think we should stay here. Sharon is there, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I think that might be a non-issue too. Besides, we can mingle. Just don’t blow me in public and we’ll be alright. Probably.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Although, a rather vivid and inappropriate image of doing just that comes to him. He’s pretty sure that doesn’t seem like a sexy thrill. All those people around. Maybe if he was under a table or something.

“By the time we get there, I’m half expecting a text saying that Sharon has been abducted to Wakanda so our problems are solved. Shuri is trying to come up with a solution. I think she wanted to talk to Nat. The combined power is… we should all be afraid.”

A wave of relief goes through him and he wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and kisses him. Bucky keeps touching his back, really groping him through the jacket. He can tell Bucky’s hard. Frankly, everything is so far going very well indeed.

“Why are you on a first name basis with Princess Shuri?”

Bucky sighs, kisses his jaw and his neck, cool fingers trailing down his skin. “Do you want to sit down for the story?”

“Can I sit in your lap?”

“Yes,” he says, kissing Steve through his smile. He pulls Steve to the couch and sits down and Stevefiddles with his pants, which are very well cut and therefore not particularly comfortable or suited for sitting like this. He doesn’t care. Bucky grins at him, gives him a hand. Steve leaves a bit of distance, is more interested in being close to him than trying to get distracted and start something, at least until he hears the story. He puts his head in Bucky’s neck, leaning on him— but definitely _not_ like a small child about to take a nap.

Bucky kisses him on the head, hands loosely going around his waist. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome soldier—“

“Fuck you.” He does _not_ want to do age play.

He can feel Bucky laughing. “Don’t interrupt. The handsome soldier was a sniper and got shuffled into special forces and then approached by some rather shady government figures who wanted me and some other guys to go in, off books, to rescue a German scientist the Americans wanted to work for them.”

“I know I’m biased, but the moment you say German scientist I’m thinking this is bad news.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. So, we go break in to rescue the scientist and there is no scientist. It’s basically a trap. Ten guys, heavily trained, go missing and no one knows or cares where we are, because it’s all off books, and… well, there were experiments.”

“Daddy,” he says, clutching him tighter.

“I’m fine. Everyone else lost their life. There was brainwashing and torture and then more men showed up, sent by T’Challa and they moved us. Shuri and I. The two valuable prisoners they had. They kept us together and moved us around for three months or so and then there was a chance for escape. I lost an arm in the escape and T’Challa picked us up, took us to Wakanda and I was there for almost a year and a half, just recovering. T’Challa was grateful and he got me discharged in exchange for giving the government some vibranium and then I came back to the states. They wanted to reward me. I didn’t want to be rewarded. Shuri’s tears are very persuasive. The money meant nothing to them, it’s chump change, but I didn’t like the idea of taking it. So, T’Challa made up a contract, basically so I’d take the money, and my provision was that I would protect Shuri if she ever came to American soil, and their provision was that I would keep my mouth shut. He didn’t want the world to know that his sister had been taken. Shuri didn’t want anyone to know. If my sister had been taken, I wouldn’t want anyone to know, either. So it was easy to agree to keep my mouth shut. Until you.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Oh. They also gave me a bastardized version of the serum. Hence why I need lots of calories and can fuck you into the mattress.”

“Those are exactly the skills the government hoped to get out of me when they made me into a super soldier,” Steve says, sarcastically. Bucky tickles him. “Quit it!” He yells, grabbing Bucky’s hands.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asks.

“No. About what?”

“I don’t know. Any of it. Not telling you or… the serum.”

“No. Are you mad?”

“I’m disappointed you didn’t stroll into that party with a cock cage on and ginger up your ass, ready to get fucked, but i’m not _mad_.”

“How did you know about the figging?”

“Natasha.”

Steve sighs. “For someone who’s supposed to be so good at keeping secrets, she’s a total gossip.”

“She wants to go out with Sam.”

“Sam?!?” He thinks about it for a half a second. “That’s a great idea.”

“I told you. He doesn’t want me.”

“She’ll keep him in line,” Steve says, anyway. “What else did she say?”

“Oh, I got the whole rolling commentary. She just wanted to see me squirm… and she was concerned I was going to fuck it up. And she’s a gossip. Sam will love her. It was cute. Try not to be mad or she’ll kill me.”

Steve chews his lip. “No, this is good. I was going to tell her all about my kinky sex life on Monday but I was a little worried she’d judge me.”

“She will not judge you.”

“Great. You don’t really want to go to the party, do you?” He asks, and slips his hands through the straps, giving a tug. “Wait. So do you have hand to hand training? There are a lot of knives.”

“I might,” he says, and grabs Steve’s ass, hauling him against his erection.

“Daddy,” he gasps, suddenly desperate. “I want you to pin me down wearing your leather fetish wear. That’s what Tony called it.”

“I do like leather. And, I do want to pin you down and fuck you. But, not tonight. Tonight, I want to show you off and see everybody ogle you in your sexy outfit. Then I want to fuck you in the private bathroom.”

“The one on the floor above or below the party?” He may have looked at the blueprints.

“I checked them both out. The floor above has a bigger counter and is less likely to have people find it.”

“How long do I have to be there?”

“I guess as long as you can stand the ginger.”

His breath leaves him in a swoosh and he cuddles up closer. “Daddy, no.”

Hands grip his ass again, rocking him closer so he’s right on top of Bucky’s cock. “You’re gonna fall apart, baby,” he growls.


	32. Chapter 32

Steve is absolutely terrified that he’s going to fall apart from the cage. He kisses Bucky’s neck and then his mouth, wondering if he can just get out of it altogether. Maybe they could do it over the weekend instead so he could fall apart at home. In their bed and with time. He needs time for something like this. He wants to be eased into it and comforted, he wants his daddy’s cock in his ass to comfort him, to have the blankets there and maybe even his shirt.

“Come on. Let’s get you ready,” he says, and helps Steve to his feet. Steve follows him to the kitchen, reluctantly. So reluctantly that Bucky gives him a little tug and then presses him against the counter. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I don’t know if we need the cage. I was… it was because I was trying to make a point not because I actually want to do it,” he confesses. He was naughty. He was trying to provoke his daddy while he worked. Bucky wants the cage. He needs to submit. “You’ll like it, daddy?”

“Very much, sweetheart.”

Steve shoves closer. That’s enough then. He closes his eyes and breathes in, counting and exhaling. Calm. It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

“You want the ginger?”

“Yes, I do.” He can’t do both. It’s impossible. He holds onto Bucky’s strap, strokes between his fingers rhythmically. Maybe it will be better to have both. Somehow make the cage easier. A distraction. “Want that,” he says.

“Where is the cage? And the key. Very important,” Bucky murmurs, giving Steve a peck on the nose. He’s smiling. That can mean very bad things are about to happen to him, Steve knows. Which he deserves. And which he usually likes.

Steve’s hand hovers over a kitchen towel. He’d covered it up. Didn’t even want to see the damned thing. If Bucky hadn’t shown up when he did, he doesn’t think he’d have put it on. “Here, daddy,” he says, sounding strangled.

“Pants down,” he orders.

He doesn’t move, presses closer to Bucky. “Daddy, please I don’t know if I can. You’ll have to help me. M-make me.”

Bucky’s got a hand on his back, rubbing absently. That stops him. He ducks down, title Steve head, looking into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

He nods. “Just… make me.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Bucky is going to relent. Thank god. This weekend he can do the cage. Bucky sighs. “Poor baby. What do you do then? When you’re worried? If it’s just too much?”

He’s not saying red. Not only because Steve deserves a bit of punishment but because the cage will make his daddy happy and he’s been through so much.

Bucky is touching the cage, picks it up and looks at it. Weighs it in his hands almost theatrically. Steve shoves down the fear. Chuckles. This is just like anything else. This will be good. He will come so fucking hard. Fake it til you make it, or something.

“There is something seriously wrong with me. This is a terrible idea. And you are terrible for encouraging it. You should—”

“Let me get in the freezer, sweetheart,” he says, ignoring Steve’s bitching. At least Steve is convincing, he thinks, and swallows down bile. Bucky pulls out a bag of peas, drops them on the counter loudly. He looks at Steve’s pants. “Would you like a motivating swat on that pretty cock before it gets put away for safe keeping?”

Steve fumbles his belt and the pants. He’s shaking. His hands feel a little unsteady. Bucky touches his face, is looking at him. Assessing. He looks a little worried. Well, he looks basically the same, and it might be Steve’s imagination, but he’s pretty sure Bucky is second guessing it, too.

He gets his pants down. Of course, his cock is hard and leaking. “Well, there’s our answer, isn’t it? You’ll be just fine. Babydoll look at your panties. Beautiful boy,” he says. Steve’s got pretty black satin panties on with some stupid tissue (unappealingly) crammed into the front so he didn’t make a mess. He’d thought he’d get to take that out before he saw Bucky. Bucky smirks at him and then picks up the peas, wraps them in a towel and comes close.

“Daddy, no.” He eyes the cold vegetables. Cold is okay. Cold is not the cage.

“There’s my good boy,” he says, and kisses him, once. “Put your hands behind your back. Hook your fingers together so you don’t forget,” he says. Steve does it, shuffles on his feet. His heart is pounding. Bucky kisses his mouth again, pressing the peas to his groin at the same time. It’s horrible, absolutely awful, and he squirms and grabs for Bucky, head against his shoulder and arms around his neck while the cold seeps cruelly into him.

“You’re meant to have your hands behind your back. But daddy loves holding onto his good boy so I’ll let it slide. Poor little boy,” he murmurs and his cock hurts so fucking much he doesn’t think about the description. “Of course you need a cuddle if daddy hurts you.”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, sick with how much he needs and how afraid he is. Finally, Bucky checks him, gently lifting the peas away. He’s so small. 

“Adorable. How cute are you?”

It is cute. He likes the look of his small cock and his balls retreated from the cold. More like he used to look. Familiar. He stares at his cock. Bucky takes the cage and gets it on him, the sound of the lock clicking making him whimper. Panic rushes over him and he hates it, can’t stand it, wants to rip it off of himself. Please, please let Bucky know.

“Daddy?” He’s scared to move, scared to touch himself. Scared to fucking look at it on him. It’s so heavy and hard. He needs to be accessible. How will Steve do this?

“I know, baby.” Bucky touches the metal with his flesh hand. “That’s so fucking pretty, isn’t it? God, that’s just… get down on your knees and suck me off before we go down,” he says, and he gives the peas back to Steve, pressing it over his groin so he doesn’t struggle with the arousal as he sucks him.

His daddy doesn’t understand. The peas are cold and they hide him. if he can get numb he won’t feel it maybe. He presses the peas harder to his groin, focuses on the numbness and cold, adjusts the cloth so he can’t see the cage at all. It isn’t there. It’s going to be okay.

“Open,” Bucky says, and the hot, silken head of Bucky’s cock is there, at his lips. He opens and sucks him in with a loud moan of blissful relief. Distraction, praise, this is what he needed. He can do it if he has Bucky’s cock in his mouth.

He lets Steve do the work, stands there while Steve bobs his head and squirms, hating the peas and the cage but the panic is better now that he has a purpose. “The fucking mouth on you. Thank god there’s time for this. I was positively dreading you being there tonight, teasing me. I was so hard already, just thinking about you. I need this if I have to go back down there, don’t I?”

Steve wants to hit him. He tries to glare, pours all of his anxiety into annoyance at his jerk of a daddy, taunting him. Bucky grins at him. “Yeah, you’re so good to daddy. Helping me be relaxed and able to have a good time, because I’m not just thinking about you and being in you, too fucking horny to have a good time? Isn’t that nice for daddy?” He demands, hauling Steve off. Steve gasps.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not very nice. Let’s wash that mouth out, shall we?” Bucky pulls him back on, shoves deep, choking him. He holds him on for a long time, moans and grips the back of Steve’s head hard while his cock twitches and leaks pre come down the back of Steve’s throat. He pulls back long enough for Steve to breathe and cough.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart. Don’t you want daddy to come so he can have a good time? So I’m not down at that party, dazed and confused like some needy slut, desperate and throbbing for you?” Steve glares. “Say it.”

“Fuck you,”

Bucky groans and pulls Steve back on, goes deep again, stays, pressing hard with his metal hand so Steve can’t breathe. “You need to watch your language with daddy. Maybe you need real soap in that filthy mouth, sweetheart. Soap and a bare bottom spanking to correct your naughtiness. Maybe daddy’s cock just isn’t enough to make you behave. Do you want to behave? Don’t you want to be good for daddy?” Steve tries to move and winds up gagging.

He looks to Bucky frantically. Bucky’s cock twitches, his eyes close for a moment and he shushes Steve and pulls back the tiniest amount. Steve shudders in relief, almost bites and has to shove a finger between his teeth just in case.

He can’t do this. Can’t do the cage. Can’t suck his daddy’s cock. “One more and I’m going to fill you up, baby. Deep breath, easy now… oh my god,” Bucky says, reverently, Steve’s throat spasming on him. His voice is rough. “So fucking good, Steve.” And Bucky keeps him there, finally letting go and Steve slumps into him, kisses him all over, saliva thick on Bucky’s cock.

“Daddy. Please. You said you’d come.”

“Tell daddy what he wants to hear and I will. I need it. It’ll make me come.”

Of course. Of course. Steve doesn’t win with daddy. He nods, relents. He’ll say it. “You should come, daddy. So you’re not too hard and a needy slut.”

“_Exactly_. Why not? Who’s the needy slut?” He growls, hand hard in Steve’s hair.

“Me,” That gets him a hard face fucking, Bucky not stopping until he comes. Steve is on the edge too, his balls contract, sharp and painful with the cold, wetness spilling out of him as he releases. He pulls the peas away and looks down when his daddy pulls out of his mouth. The towel is soaked in come. Thank god his pants were still down.

His daddy takes a moment to recover as he always does and Steve waits until it’s his turn to be noticed. His daddy’s pleasure far enough away that he can take care of Steve. Bucky bends down, has Steve move his hands out of the way and puts the peas aside.

“Sticky boy,” he murmurs, dabbing at him and the cage with the towel. “You need a bath.”

He could do this if he was in the bath. If his daddy was there with him, holding him. He can’t go to the party in the cage. He can’t do it. His daddy cleans him up a little more, but leaves him messy in his cage which is so humiliating. Bucky gets back to his feet and Steve clings to Bucky’s leg, forehead on his hip while Bucky touches his hair. 

“You’re pretty far down, sweetheart. So sweet. I don’t know if the ginger is a good idea.”

“C-cage off? Please?”

“No, I don’t think so. Look at how lovely you are in it. Don’t you need the reminder? Who you belong to? They’re all going to want you. I don’t want my easy slut to be led astray.”

“I wouldn’t,” he says, desperately sincere, so out of it he doesn’t realize his daddy isn’t actually worried about that.

“But you get so slutty, don’t you?”

“Only for you, daddy. I _wouldn’t_,” he begs. Bucky helps him to his feet. He sways closer.

“I believe you. I know. But, I don’t trust other people, Steve. They’ll want you and you’re mine. Maybe you need an ass full of come before we go. So people know. Mark you up and keep you safe.”

He turns to the counter and bends over. Bucky laughs at him, smacks him on the ass. “Silly boy. I was kidding. Don’t worry. I have another way to keep those filthy people away from you. Stay there.”

Lube is put onto his hole in a small glob and then there’s the ginger, cold from the fridge, still wet from being soaked and Bucky pushes it slowly inside him. At first, it’s just cold.

“Look at daddy. Let me watch you,” he says, and Steve gets up from the counter. Bucky bends down, gets his panties back up, smooths them, covering the cage. It isn’t there, he tells himself.

“Oh. I can’t. I can’t. Daddy.” Bucky pulls up Steve’s pants, takes long moments looking from Steve’s face to what he’s doing, tucking in his shirt properly, checking the buttons. He zips him up and does his pants button.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

Steve’s breathing is slow and hitched. His daddy is staring at his mouth. “Don’t make me.”

“I’m making you. Pretty boy with those pretty red lips.”

Steve turns away, jaw hard. He won’t safe word. His cock throbs, tries to get hard. His hole burns. Just burns and throbs. He can feel the sensitive tissues beginning to swell. “And you’re going to use me?” He whispers. If it stays like this, he’ll be okay.

“That’s right. I am. You tell me when you can’t take anymore and we’ll leave. I’ll fuck you in the bathroom. Let you have my cold fingers to soothe you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

It starts to itch and burn, ramping up quickly. And it’s going to get worse. He’d forgotten how horrible it was. How he’d reached a point where he couldn’t do anything, say anything, just dragged Sharon into the bathroom and shoved up her dress, pushed her panties down to mid-thigh and… and there’d been a moment. He’d struggled and trembled and wanted to beg her. He’d gotten his cock out, red and weeping, pressed it into her and he doesn’t even know if she was wet. He just needed comfort. He’d almost fallen on her, every inch of his skin desperate to be touched, so fucking lonely and sad and she’d been small and soft he’d been so careful of her, kept it together when it’d been so damned difficult.

This isn’t Sharon. He doesn’t have to keep it together. He can finally be weak and he’ll be taken care of. “Red, daddy,” he whispers, low and scared. “For the cage.”

Bucky undoes Steve’s pants and shoves them down, gets on the ground and has the key in the lock almost instantly. It comes off and he’s so relieved, he moans.

Bucky is looking up at him. Steve’s hand is in Bucky’s hair and he gets both there, touching him all over. He watches Bucky’s eyes close briefly. “What about the ginger, sweetheart? We can take that out, too? Anything you want, my love.”

“I like the ginger. I just… I’m sorry. I need to be in bed with you for the cage. Need you for days if we’re going to do that. I’m scared.”

Bucky lifts Steve’s shirt up a little, kisses his stomach. “I’m so proud of you, babydoll. Thank you, baby. That’s why I love you. Only you, Steve. Can daddy make you feel better?” he asks, lips already sliding along Steve’s smooth skin, to the precise, groomed bit of pubic hairhe lets stay. Bucky rubs his face in his groin, down to his balls, sucks them into his mouth and Steve gets hard so quickly.

“You’re gonna come twice, baby.”

“Yeah, please. Please, daddy.” Bucky moans and takes his cock in his mouth, sucks him gently and then more firmly, wet and easy. His ass is swollen and hot and he comes so fast. Bucky swallows, doesn’t stop, just keeps going as if nothing has happened.

He’s burning inside. He’s so hot. He presses into the wet of Bucky’s mouth, sees his daddy’s eyes fixed on him, assessing. The love there. He comes and the discomfort is nothing compared to what he feels in his ass. His daddy pulls off and looks at him. “One more or can you make it for a bit?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, daddy.”

“You’re so good, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to safeword because I know that isn’t easy for you, but I’m really fucking happy you did it, too.” Bucky kisses Steve’s cock again, half-hard now. “So proud of you. Do you want one more? Fill daddy up with your come? You taste good, sweetheart.”

“I’m done, daddy. I want to wait.” He wants to be really fucking hard and still burning when he gets fucked and the ginger only lasts so long. Bucky gets up, pulls Steve’s panties back into place, gets his shirt tucked and has him all buttoned up again.

His lips are a little swollen from sucking and his mouth tastes like Steve’s come. “I love you, daddy. You’re not disappointed?” He actually knows his daddy isn’t. He just wants to hear it. Bucky grins at him, apparently onto Steve.

“I am _not_ disappointed. I am very happy and relieved that my good boy told me. I’m so happy that I am positively going to wreck your ass this weekend. It would make me very happy if yellow and red were easy things for you to say.” He kisses Steve again. “You like to say no so much and a lot of what we both like has so much non con play and pain that it’s a relief.” His daddy’s shoulders actually slump as he leans into Steve.

Steve fixes Bucky’s hair and they finally leave the apartment, Steve close and hazy. He keeps smelling Bucky absently. The leather and his skin, nose pressed into Bucky’s shoulder. His ass is hot and he’s already imagining how good and awful it’s going to be for Bucky’s fingers to work their way into his ass.

“I’ve never looked forward to a party before,” Steve says.

“Oh dear.”

“Right? If I’m not careful I might enjoy myself.”

“Well, if all it takes for you to have a good time is to cry, come a few times, safe word and have your ass swollen and burning, then I can’t believe you haven’t worked it out sooner.”

“I’m just a simple guy,” Steve says, and the elevator doors open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a bit, friends! This chapter was a lot shorter, a lot less emotional and smutty and just didn't work and I think it needed a few days to work itself out. Hopefully you all agree. Up next! Sex in a bathroom! Maybe some age play. woot! anyone else ready for quarantine to end? god.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um... it's pretty clear Steve is a masochist, right?

He’s sweating five minutes into the party and he wants to punch Bucky in the face by the time he’s ten minutes in. He said hello to Shuri. He has no fucking idea what was said. He hugged Tony. He doesn’t know how that happened or why. Nat was there post- hug. “You look miserable,” she said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you… I have to get the hell out of here,” he mumbles, scanning the room for… something. A threat. A good surface to get fucked on.

“I can’t even imagine,” she said, shuddering. “Shit. Here comes Sharon.” Bucky mutters it at the same time.

“Steve! How are you?” she asks, and gives him a hug. How is this happening to him. He tries desperately to ignore the crescendo of burning heat in his ass.

“Good. How’s Berlin?”

“I love it. I’m so glad you’re still talking to James. Communication skills, a citizen of Wakanda and a hero. I have to say, that’s a pretty impressive resume,” she says, and Steve tries to shake off the haze a bit and focus. Is Sharon hitting on Bucky?

“He’s been… helpful,” Steve says. “I should thank you. I mean, thank you. It’s been good for me. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for us but… everything is okay.” He swallows, almost sways. His hole throbs. He looks to Bucky. Needing to be touched.

And get the hell out of here.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that. I just want you to be happy,” she says.

Bucky is staring at Steve, reading the misery on his face and he’s 100% sure Bucky is thinking about fucking him and how much it’s going to hurt.

“I am. Actually. Happy,” Steve manages.

“You mean at this exact moment?” Bucky asks, blandly.

Sharon laughs. “Steve hates these things. I figured I’d better say hi now because he’ll duck out as soon as possible.”

“You’re not wrong,” Steve says.

“Oh look, they’ve got the desert table set up now,” Nat says. And hauls Sharon away with her. Steve turns to Bucky. “I’m _not_ happy at this exact moment. I want to leave. And I want you to make me feel better.”

“I was going to make you feel worse,” he says, eyeing Steve’s mouth. He leans closer. “But, yeah. Let’s go. We’re done here. I want to check on your little hole and then I want to come in it.”

“The only good thing about this is going to be watching your face when you have to experience the ginger, too.”

Bucky makes a non-committal noise and leads him out of the party, to the third floor private bathroom which he closes and locks behind them. The relief of being away from people, of knowing he made it, is almost instantly replaced by frantic lust. He needs the ginger out. He needs to get fucked.

“It hurts, baby?” he asks, and starts undoing Steve’s pants.

“Yes, daddy. Hurts so much.” He kisses him, sighing. “So much. Hurts. Aches. Take care of me,” he says, and wraps his arms around him, feels the lump of emotion in his throat. He’s going to get taken care of now. 

“Poor, angel. My little sweetheart. Let’s see. Show daddy,” Bucky says, and turns him around towards the counter.

“Oh my god. Fuck, it’s so good already,” he says, on the verge of coming. His daddy is here, making him feel safe and desired, getting ready to use him like he’s always wanted. So different than before, with Sharon. So right. The contrast of before and after, what he lacked versus what he now has is so clear and he’s just grateful. It’s been a while since he felt it so purely. As if it was all luck and goodness. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too. Poor baby,” he murmurs, again, brushing a hand over Steve’s cheek before he gets a hold on the ginger. He pulls it out gently. Steve braces his hands, arms giving out almost immediately. It’s so intense. It burns. He’s so swollen. He can feel every fiber of the root, how it all magnifies as it rubs inside him on the way out.

He trembles, eyes closed, desperately wanting to relax and not clench against the awful drag of it’s removal. It’s almost out, just the last inch inside him. He clenches and whimpers, presses into the cool counter. “Out, daddy.”

Bucky doesn’t take it out. He leans down, kisses Steve’s cheek. “You’re drooling already. Is it a good pain, sweetheart? Should we add chemical play to what you like?”

“Out.”

Bucky chuckles. “Alright, baby. Very gentle now,” he says, and pulls it out. It’s not better. Some stupid part of him had hoped that he’d instantly feel better. What if he never feels better? What if it goes on and on and he just can’t stand it? He doesn’t want to get fucked. The burn of taking it out is nothing compared to the huge size of Bucky’s cock moving within him.

“Want to be in bed. Oh, god. I can’t, daddy,” he sobs, tries to lift his head and see Bucky. Bucky’s got his hand on his cock, palming himself through his clothes as he studies Steve’s hole.

“Oh, you are _swollen_. You are a _wreck_, baby.” Bucky says, almost gleeful. He squeezes his cock. “This poor hole needs to be left alone for a bit, is that what you’re telling me?” He touches Steve’s neck and then his hair, fingers going through it gently.

“Yes, please. Just a bit, daddy. And I want to be in bed and have you beside me.” It’s almost a mumble. He’s burning and soft at the same time. Helpless and drifting, Bucky’s cock is against his hip and it takes a minute to register what that even is. Still clothed. He’s just kissing Steve, fingers trailing up and down Steve’s thigh and his cheek.

“Daddy,” he breathes. “In bed?” If he can just get there, have a little time to calm down, he can do it.

“You’ve been so good, Steve. You know daddy just want you to be happy, don’t you?”

“Yes. Please, please.”

Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Daddy loves you. Okay, baby?”

“I know, daddy.” There’s space, Bucky moving back so Steve can get off the counter. He takes a few breaths, trembling. He lifts his chest. There’s a hand on his upper back. Fuck. Fuck. No. Instantly, he knows what that means. He sobs.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, and chuckles. “Poor little thing. I’m so sorry, we just can’t wait, Steve. You felt daddy’s cock, didn’t you? How hard you made me? Fuck, you look so good. Your hole is so pink and swollen. I haven’t even put my fingers on you, because I know it would just cause you so much misery right now. But, I’ve _got_ to get my cock in there. I’m so sorry,” he says, and Steve whimpers in fear and arousal.

This is what he wanted. And it _has_ to happen. His daddy _can’t_ wait. _Can’t_ help it.

“This is what happens when you’re too perfect, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers. It’s true. He’s irresistible. He brought this on himself. Too good. Too perfect. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Too bad it’s going to hurt, he thinks, so twisted about he almost comes. There’s a rustling behind him. It almost sounds like… a condom.

“Daddy?”

“You wouldn’t want daddy’s cock to get burned, would you?”

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me? You have a _condom_? I hate you. That’s not _fair_. I don’t want you to use it. Get rid of it,” Steve orders.

“My goodness, what, are you angry?” Bucky smacks him gently on the ass and Steve glares at him in the mirror.

“The least you can do is feel a bit of what I’m going through.”

“Why? I didn’t want the ginger up my ass. I just wanted to fuck you. This was your fantasy. I’ve got a condom and I’m using it.”

“But—”

“Hush. Don’t even worry about it yet. Let’s get you soothed a little. We need to open you up I think.”

He slumps to the counter weakly. “You’re _awful_,” he says.

Bucky presses a lube shooter into him. It stings as it touches his rim, brings tears to his eyes as Bucky presses it into him, his legs sagging in relief when it comes out. He can’t get a cock in there. It’s going to be impossible.“No. I can’t. Fuck, don’t want it, daddy.”

“Sorry, baby. I have to. I’ll try to be gentle. Just so slow and easy on you. I know it’s tough,” he croons, and a metal finger kisses his rim. Waits. He moans at the cool relief.

“More,” he whispers, and Bucky presses gently into him. It’s cold and beautiful and Steve spasms around him. His daddy kisses him, then pulls his finger out and adds a second, working him open slowly. “We’re being careful, aren’t we? With my good boy?”

“Yes, daddy. Because you love me?”

“Because I love you and my boy deserves nice things.” The fingers press deep. Steve bites his lip against the discomfort, whimpering. The fingers slip out, all of him going lax and easy with the retreat. That’s so much better.

“Thank you,” he says and Bucky chuckles. “Feeling sweet now, are you? Are you getting soft and sweet on me? My good boy?” Bucky says, and Steve nods, makes a hmm of agreement. His hands pet at the cold counter and it isn’t good enough.

“Daddy. Daddy. What if I rest on my jacket?”

“Under your head while I fuck you? Like a pillow?”

_“Yes.” _That’s perfect. It’s not his shirt but if he has something he’ll be okay.

“Is that because good little boys need their blankets when their mean daddies fuck them?”

Steve gasps in shock. “No!”

“Oh. Is it because the counter is uncomfortable?”

“Yes,” Steve says, vehemently.

“Hmm. Let’s see how you do with a bit of cock, baby. You might go right into subspace and you’ll be just fine. If you get weepy and high voiced and become my slutty little Stevie boy, then we’ll do it. My slutty little Stevie needs his blanket.”

“Fuck you. _Don’t._ That _isn’t_ it. I’m not a _little boy_, I don’t want you to _treat me_ like a little boy. I’m serious,” he says. He looks back, face flushed with rage, gripping the counter hard. “I’m really fucking serious.”

Bucky says nothing, drops his gaze back to Steve’s hole. Fuck, his cock is there, the head pressing into him slowly. “We’ll go easy. So gentle, my sweet boy. You’re so good. So lovely, aren’t you?” Bucky groans, and Steve isn’t sure if Bucky is listening or not. He doesn’t go into subspace, doesn’t relax. Fuck. It hurts so much he doesn’t even know if he could lose himself in it. It’s too bright and sharp. “Shit,” he says, arching his back, moving his feet a little.

“Stay. Oh god, you are _hot_ inside. You were so fucking tight before but this is ridiculous. I think… yeah,” Bucky’s fingers clench hard into Steve’s hips. “Sweetheart, daddy could wreck you, make you gape, and I think some ginger would make you tight enough for me again.” Bucky groans and for a moment Steve thinks the whole thing might be over.

“Come? Can I?”

“It’s gotta be in your panties, babydoll. Is that okay?” He’s got these assless panties on so Bucky could get straight into him but there’s barely any space in there for his cock. He’ll drip. 

Steve bites his lip, tries to hold out but it’s hopeless. He comes hard, spurting into the panties, soaking them. Gaping. His daddy would wreck him. Make him be tight again. Bucky fucks into him while he comes, horrible and burning and Steve loses a few moments to the pleasure, becomes aware of Bucky’s weight on his back as he leans against him, forehead on Steve’s back.

“Daddy? Will you do that?”

“Do you want me to?” He asks, sounding a little wrecked himself.

The tears flow and he tries to wipe his hand over his eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. So do I. And I know you’ll safe word if you need to so we can. It’s all about trust and being honest with one’s self.”

“Uh huh,” Steve says, because Bucky’s been calm behind him, cock half in, hands gentle and that means he’s been thinking. His voice sounds like he’s been thinking.

“Seriously. If you’re going to bring up the age play thing again—”

“Here is the problem, babydoll,” Bucky says, interrupting him. Steve squeezes on Bucky’s cock, braces his arm and presses back, Bucky’s cock sinking into him. Bucky’s hips jerk forward. “Keep going. I like that. So good, Steve.”

“If it shuts you up for once, then I’m on board.”

“It won’t, but if you don’t get up a good rhythm here, then I’ll just fuck you brutal. I’m thinking you want to set the pace a little, do yourself a favor,” he says, mean and intent.

He buries his head in his forearms and presses back and then forward, Bucky’s cock easing in and out of him. The pain is beginning to lessen slightly, but it’s still awful. He still feels like one giant wound inside, fragile and delicate. He likes keeping the rhythm, likes Bucky moaning and watching Steve’s body take him in and release him. He can see Bucky in the mirror, fixated on his hole, on the slide in and out.

Steve’s relief is short lived. Bucky doesn’t shut up about the age play. “God, Steve. The _problem_ is that you are my cute little boy sometimes, and you just don’t want to admit it. And you’re perfect that way. Being my little boy would get you good things. Nice things. We don’t have to do all of it. There are things I don’t like about it, either.”

“Like what?” He asks, feeling clever. They should definitely discuss what’s bad about it.

“Well, like diapers and wetting for one. That’s not good, is it?”

“No, daddy.”

“You’re so tight, sweetheart. It’s a good thing I came or I’d really be hurting you right now. I’m glad I can be sweet to you,” he says. Steve rolls his eyes. Talk about a gross misinterpretation of the facts because his hole is on fire and he’d be quite happy if Bucky would stop fucking talking and just come.

Bucky groans and looks at him, squeezes Steve’s hips to stop his slow glide up and down Bucky’s cock. “That was lovely, Steve. Daddy’s got it now. Just lay there, sweetheart,” he says, cock in deep, hips flush against Steve’s ass. He tries to push Steve’s shirt up more, to stroke his sides and his chest. Steve is a little afraid he might be here all damned night.

“You could get to me better if I had my jacket off,” he says. And then he could cuddle it like a pillow. Everybody wins. Bucky makes a hmm sound. “There are so many _things _in age play.Toys, pacifiers, bottles, blankets.” 

Fuck him.

“Did you want that jacket off, sweetheart? A blanket?”

“No, I’m fine.” Seriously, fuck him.

“You tell daddy if you change your mind. I want you comfy, baby.”

Fuck him. Steve almost growls he’s so annoyed. And he is so god damned hard again he can’t believe it. What bullshit.

“And I don’t want you in onesies or ridiculous clothes. That would be a hard no for me, Steve.”

“Hard no?” He asks, surprised. That’s something, isn’t it? Bucky pulls out of him completely, and Steve gasps in dismay, looks at his daddy, Bucky watching Steve’s hole clench and try to close before he pushes back in, a hand on Steve’s lower back.

“Careful, baby. This is a great big cock in that tiny little hole of yours. We have to be gentle.”

He presses his face into his arm, into the bend of his elbow, the velvet jacket soft, almost like a pillow. He turns his head, wiping his eyes. “Thank you, daddy.” Gratitude and happiness wash over him. His daddy taking care of him. This is where he wants to be. Hard and good and perfect. Brought low and even, maybe, a little manipulated.

“Little break for you, sweetheart. I’d like you to come again. Does that sound nice?” He pulls his cock all the way out.

Steve groans.

“You greedy little slut. Can’t have that pretty little hole without something in it for more than a moment, can you?”

“No, I can’t,” he whispers. Even though it hurts, he wants his daddy back.

Bucky shushes him and presses a finger in to the first digit. “You know I’d do fucking anything for you, Stevie, so I’d change my mind if you wanted any of those things, but those aren’t the things I like. I like _real _toys. I like your hole and your mouth as my toys. I like your hands and your pretty cock and balls. Your tits. Those are all really good toys for daddy to play with, aren’t they? And they’re your toys, too, I suppose. And we have other toys. Toys to make you feel good and to feel bad. Toys for your bottom and your pretty cock. Don’t we like sweet, nice toys in that pretty bottom of yours?”

Bucky does something with his finger, jiggling it into him and pressing in a way that is horribly intense and which he’s pretty sure he fucking hates, although he’s slightly concerned he might come. Maybe not. No. He won’t. Thankfully, he decides, and hauls in a breath. Because, it’s bad. It hurts and he— “Fuck!” He shouts, and then he’s pulsing into his soaked panties again.

The man is an evil genius who’s made a sex deal with a demon.

“Poor little slut,” Bucky says, and Steve blushes with shame, shudders in sensitivity and presses more hot tears into his jacket. He wishes it was his shirt. “The only thing I _really _like about age play, that we couldn’t even do, is a bit of the talking. And the play dates, I suppose. You know?” Bucky sighs.

Steve is fucked out and a little shaky but he’s not _that_ far gone. It’s a great tragedy, the sigh says. It’s an invitation to say, ‘gee, daddy, tell me more, what is this amazing ‘language’ I’ll never get and that you want so much? What sort of play dates?’ Like he’s a gullible idiot.

“That’s too bad, daddy.” Steve starts to relax. Things are fine. He’s fine. His panties are nasty.

“Since you ask,” Bucky says.

“I didn’t ask, daddy.” Steve smiles, wiggles. _Fuck you, daddy, and your manipulations. _“Fuck me, daddy.” He reaches back with a hand, trying to grab Bucky’s dick and get it in his ass where his daddy belongs.

“What are you doing, baby? Is there something you want?”

He ignores the tone. “Need you to fuck me,” he says, like an adult man. Which he is.

“I bet you do. Need a big hard cock in that sloppy cunt of yours?” he says, in Steve’s same tone of voice. Mimicking him, but overly macho. Steve didn’t sound like that, did he? Steve licks his lips, looks behind him to see Bucky’s face because he has no idea what Bucky’s getting at now. Sloppy cunt. _That_ is _bad language_. He’s almost positive that once Bucky is actually in him, the mental bullshit will stop, because Bucky will lose his damned mind. Steve is going to make him.

“I’m empty, daddy.”

Bucky growls. Much better. There’s the blunt head of his cock pressing between his cheeks again. Tears spills almost instantly. He’s still so hot and swollen. Steve rocks forward, attempting to delay the inevitable agony.

“Gonna feel so good. You take good care of daddy, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Let me….” Bucky grunts in his ear as he gets into position, really laying over Steve oppressively. Steve moans, clenches on Bucky because it’s so good. “Fuck, let me just, god you’re tight and so sweet. Fuck, I have to come. You ready? Can I hurt you and just come? I’m really fucking horny, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, daddy. I don’t mind.” Goodbye, stupid age play conversation.

“Good. God, I love hurting your pretty hole. Love fucking you open on my cock and knowing it’s just so hard for you to let me. You could stop me anytime Steve, but you don’t. You let me do this and you come from this and that’s so fucking amazing,” he says, and he shoves, forcing Steve open and Steve cries out. “Yeah, I’m gonna get in there, wish I could flood you up, baby,” he growls and he fucks into him hard.

“Fuck, that _hurts_, daddy!” It’s so good that he should tell Bucky to be careful so Steve doesn’t fall down and brain himself on the counter.

“Does it?” He grunts and shoves and Steve feels like he’s being ripped open inside.

“Daddy.” So much. “Oh, god,” he whimpers, whimpers again, all of him clenching and focused on Bucky’s most minute move. “Perfect,” he says, soundlessly.

“Good boy, easy. It’s just a treat, baby. Something special for your little bottom because you make daddy so happy and you’re such a good little boy,” he growls and fucks him in steady thrusts. Steve spasms inside and Bucky doesn’t slow or stop, just makes Steve take that too. Steve bites his jacket. “You like presents and for daddy to come play with you, don’t you? You like our special time and getting to cuddle up with daddy’s special toy in your mouth, don’t you?”

Bucky’s hand is suddenly on Steve’s cock, petting him through the panties. “Look at how you filled those panties. The mess you made. What a naughty little boy you are, filling them all up. You should have taken your cock out like a big boy, shouldn’t you? Now you have to stew in those nasty panties of yours. I didn’t bring a change of clothes for you.”

Daddy’s fingers rub him through the mess, all over his cock head and he’s too sensitive and he gives a great, heaving sob and wishes he had Bucky’s fucking shirt. “Babydoll. What is it?’

“Daddy, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t… do this to me. You know best. I don’t know. Just leave it alone. I don’t want that, daddy.”

“My little liar. My stubborn little boy. Do you want daddy to break you down and make you admit it?” The dual assault of his battered swollen hole and Bucky’s hard fingers on his cock is too much and he cries.

“I love you.”

“I know, my little Stevie, I know. I love you, too. And if you would let me, I’d take you,” he growls and fucks deep and hard, “to the zoo, baby,” another hard shove, “buy you popcorn and something special from the store. _Fuck_,” he grits out and plunges in and out, brutal and careless. “Dolled up. Pretty. A balloon. You want a balloon?” He shoves so hard Steve is pushed up the counter and his head bumps the wall. He’s so weak now.

“Daddy. Daddy. It’s a lot. I love you. _Please_.”

“Take you… anywhere…. Anything you want… so special. Only good things, Steve… it means I get to give you good things. Jesus, you sure milk my cock, baby. You’re just a perfect little princess, aren’t you?” He’s brutal now, relentless and Steve wants to drift away.

“Tell me you want it and I’ll give you a treat. Admit it and you get something special right this moment.”

“What?” he gasps, Bucky’s words competing with the floaty feeling.

Bucky stops fucking him. Heaving in hard breaths, shaking as he makes himself stop when he’s close. “Christ,” Bucky mutters. He’s fumbling with something in a pocket or in his jacket or something. “You’re so fucking stubborn. I can’t believe I get off on this shit,” Bucky says. And Steve has a sense of deja vu because that’s what he always says.“Finally. Here, baby,” He says, sounding shaky, “I brought you a blankie. Do you want it?”

It’s another of Bucky’d god damned gym shirts like the one he has at the house. Steve makes a sound, despite himself. A horrible mewling sort of sound at the sight of it. Damn it. “I hate you. You can’t let anything go, can you?”

“You deserve everything and I’m gonna fucking give it to you. And you’re going to say thank you, even if it does mean I die of blue balls.”

“Fuck. Give it to me,” he whispers and Bucky presses it to Steve’s face. He breathes in his daddy, rubs his face in it and Bucky starts fucking him again.

“Beautiful. I love that. My little boy with his blanket getting fucked so hard.” Bucky comes. He feels it. He feels it. Gets weight on his back. His daddy sighing into the hair at the back of his neck and kissing his skin.

He clutches his blanket, _no, his shirt_, closer. “Thank you, daddy.”

Bucky kisses his neck and slowly pulls out of him. There’s no come. It’s in the condom. At least he has his shirt. He has the pain to remind him that it happened. Bucky throws the condom away, takes another long look at his hole. “I want to take a picture.”

Steve hums happily. It’s daddy’s hole. He can do what he wants. Bucky takes a picture. Steve doesn’t look at it. He’s too tired and he’s pretty sure he’ll like how he looks, but he’s not completely sure. He feels fragile and his hole won’t look perfect. It’ll be fucked out and swollen from the ginger.

“That’s so pretty,” Bucky says, and pulls up Steve’s pants. Steve gets carefully up off the counter. He kisses Steve gently on the lips. “You make me crazy. That was a lot, baby. I need to take care of you now,” he says, a little flat.

“Daddy?”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay. I just really feel like I hurt you a hell of a lot. I love you. I do. So much. You can always say no.”

“I don’t want to say no. And, it was nice of you to get me a shirt.”

Bucky snorts. “Nice maybe, but not gentle.” He kisses him again. “That’s part of why _I _want us to do some age play. I like you content. I like being sweet to you, especially since I don’t know how I’ll ever fuck you any nicer.”

Steve leans back against the counter and yelps as he gets upright again. That hurts. “Oh god,” he groans. “I don’t want nicer. Even now. I love it. Hell, I’ll do the age play if you promise _not_ to be nicer.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, instantly.

“What?”

“You let me treat you like my little baby, my little boy sometimes, do what I ask you to when I want, just a little bit of age play for daddy, and I won’t fuck you gently… unless you ask.”

“Deal.” Steve takes a breath. “Shit. Did I just win that one?”

“It’s not a competition.” Bucky rolls his eyes, hugs Steve to him.

“The fuck it isn’t. I think I did.”

“Tell me that again when you have to sit down.”


	34. Chapter 34

The notification that they need to suit up and head out within the hour comes at 5am. Steve feels so betrayed and helpless and tired that he doesn’t say a word or get out of bed. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling. The bed shifts, Bucky close, his chest and stomach all along Steve’s side. He’s warm and live and so muscular and Steve is going to leave. Steve closes his eyes. There’s a hot burn of tears. They were going to have breakfast with Shuri and then go to Bucky’s and he was going to have two days of being with his daddy.

Of _belonging_ to him.

Maybe this is what happens. Steve thinks he gets something for himself and the universe wants to remind him to not get too selfish. Too entitled. He’d _expected_ time with Bucky. As if it was his. He belongs to the uniform and the persona, to SHIELD, to the country, to people everywhere. He belongs to everyone and he needs to remember that. He is the vast idea of Captain America, and then he is Steve Rogers who is a man out of time and it’s hubris and selfishness to think there’s anything left over. He is not _entitled_ to Bucky.

Steve knows there’s a difference between good crying and bad crying. There’s good crying which is a release. His daddy cracks through his exterior and fucks him open and what’s left of him is then calm and soft and fragile. He’s good and easily frightened, but his daddy will be there and he’ll scoop Steve up, haul him to his bed and keep him safe. That’s just something Steve is beginning to believe in. And that’s good. That all comes with tears.

Then there’s bad tears. Those don’t come out. They just stay inside because that’s hopelessness and grief. When he wants to cry, some of that bleeds out with the rest, swept along with the emotional release, but otherwise it’s a door kept closed. Isn’t that obvious? Shouldn’t he have known that before now?

He just needs to get up. Don’t cry. Don’t even think about it because it’s utterly useless, changes nothing and it will make him fucking miserable. Just get the fuck up, he tells himself again.

“Can I see the message?” Bucky asks. Steve hands him the phone. It doesn’t even say where he’s going or how long he’ll be gone for. “Who sends you the notifications?”

Steve says nothing. Bucky rolls away from him, picks up his phone, texting someone. Bucky’s phone dings a moment later. Bucky kisses his shoulder. “Nat is going to see if you can start getting a guess on how long the missions will be from now on. We’d be happier if we knew, wouldn’t we?”

Yes, Bucky, he thinks, but he can’t speak yet. He still has to get up. Steve sits up, legs over the side of the bed. All he has to do is stand up.

He isn’t even sore. Rage boils up in him and even that’s too much effort so it slips away. The ginger has gone and as rough as it felt, Bucky wasn’t all that hard on him. The feeling was exacerbated by the ginger. He clenches, minutely shifts, wanting to find where his daddy claimed him. Maybe he’s a little sore but by mid-morning it will be like it never happened. He’d fucking earned that. The things he wants aren’t the things he gets. He’s not entitled to that, either.

Bucky gets out of bed. Comes around and holds out his hand. Steve takes it and Bucky pulls him up, just a tug and he’s up, following his daddy to the bathroom.

Bucky turns the shower on and gives Steve a kiss on the forehead. Bucky leaves him standing there, shuffles out to the kitchen, yawning. Steve gets in the shower and stands there. Two minutes later Bucky gets in with him. “Fuck this place and that fucking coffee maker. I started grinding up beans with my metal hand and then realized it does it before it brews.”

Oh. Coffee makers can do that? He hates the Tower, too. He puts his arms around Bucky. The idea of his daddy half asleep and swearing at the coffee beans as he tries to get Steve out the door for his mission makes it easier and harder to go. He wants to thank Bucky but he’s still not up to talking yet. 

Bucky soaps him up while Steve stands there. His throat feels like there’s lead in it. It goes all the way down to his stomach and fills him up inside. Bucky shampoos his hair and gets him rinsed. “Can I clean your hole, sweetheart? A little tidying before you go.”

Steve blushes, almost grunts at him, but that’s a lot of effort. Amusement is impossible. He nods. Bucky gets Steve’s special soap and Steve puts his hands on the tile because he likes that feeling of helplessness and Bucky presses along his side, hooks his chin on Steve’s shoulder and kisses his jaw.

He touches him gently with two fingers as he starts talking. “You’re my good boy, baby. You’re going to do so good out there. I’m so proud of you. Are you gonna come home safe to me?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers, has to sniff and wipe his eyes.

“And you don’t have to call me, but you can if you want to. And I’ll take care of you when you get back. What should we do?”

“I don’t know.” He can’t even think about getting out of the house, let alone coming back. It feels like there will never be anything good ever again.

“You’ll come to our home and I’ll put you in the tub with me. I’m going to wash you.”

“Enema first.”

“That’s right, good boy. Enema, then bath. And if you’re not too hungry or tired I think I’m going to get you hard in my hand and just hold you. You can lay in my arms, soft and clean until you want to get out. Daddy’s hand protecting you and reminding you who you belong to. Does that sound nice?”

“Yes, daddy. Perfect.”

“We’ll put you in your cuffs, get you daddy’s shirt, figure out what you need, and then I’ll give it to you,” he says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. A guarantee. He reaches for Bucky’s waist, only encountering smooth skin. Even Bucky can’t make guarantees. Can he? His mother used to make him promises, too.

“I’ll buy you some panties tomorrow. In fact, I’m going to send you a picture. You don’t have to respond. You don’t even have to look if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know what’s waiting for you at home.”

He nods. His daddy’s fingers have been touching him gently, just playing at his rim, smoothing over the tight, furled skin. Like nothing ever happened. Steve whimpers. Bucky turns off the shower and kisses Steve, dries him off and leads him back to the bed. “Just one kiss. One goodbye kiss to daddy’s perfect hole. Then you can get dressed and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Yes, please.” There’s a sob threatening to come out. “I don’t want to go.”

“Good boy. I know.” Bucky drapes Steve’s towel on the bed and Steve lays on top of it, grabs Bucky’s shirt, his… blanket, and puts it on his face, blocking out the world, his head on Bucky’s pillow.

This is all he wants and needs. Bucky parts his cheeks and kisses him, licks him gently. Steve hardens almost instantly, body tense. “Daddy?”

“I want this for you. Come on daddy’s tongue and then you’ll be ready to start the day.”

Steve moans and clutches the pillow tighter, Bucky’s tongue working him so sweetly. He comes quickly, wiggling into the towel as he comes.

“Good boy.” Bucky kisses his back, tells him he loves him and Steve gets up. He gets cleaned up and dressed in his costume and is standing in the kitchen with Bucky eating some scrambled eggs and a piece of toast with a mug of coffee, and he still has ten minutes before he has to be downstairs. He feels better. He can do this.

“Thank you,” he says. Soft and sincere.

“Thank _you_,” Bucky winks. “I can’t believe I haven’t fucked you in that outfit yet.”

“It’s a deal now. You don’t get the outfit unless I get you in your outfit.”

“You already had me in my outfit,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. Steve shrugs. He hands Bucky his plate and finishes his coffee. Steve goes towards the door. “Hang on. I don’t know if this is morbid or not, but we don’t have a proper collar for you yet, that you can wear all the time, but I do have my dog tags if you want them.”

He nods. It takes a moment to get the words out. “Do you have them?”

“I do. They’re in my bag.” He gets them out of his bag and puts them over Steve’s neck. Steve tucks them in under his costume, hand shaking.

“I love you. I want… when I get a collar, I want it on for good. I don’t want to be able to take it off.”

“My little sweetheart. I understand,” he says, kissing him all over his face while Steve stands there trembling faintly with emotion. Bucky is so calm and Steve wants to fall into that calm strength, have it inside him as his own. “You’re so good, Steve. So devoted. I’d be honored, babydoll. That’s what I’ll get you then. Do you want to pick it out with me?”

He blushes. “No. It’s… I want you to make that decision for me.”

“You’re a sap. I’ll take care of it.” 

“Thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome. I love you. Don’t forget your scarf, too,” he says, walking him to the door and putting it on him.

“You should go back to bed.”

“I might go back to bed.” He agrees.

***

Steve closes the door behind him and takes a minute to get himself together. To become the persona he needs to be so he can get the job done. He is not a boy. He is not small or weak. He doesn’t cry or get to complain about things not being fair. That all gets shut down and packed away as he gets on the elevator to go meet the quinjet on the roof.

Absently, he feels through his costume for the tags but there’s so much protective padding he can’t find it. That’s okay. It’s there. He touches the scarf. Does the scarf look stupid with his outfit? Red, white and blue.. _and_ YSL.

The gang is all there and he pats them on the back and starts reading the mission, but his hand is on the scarf and it’s distracting. He has to take it off, stick it in a bag so he can be present and who he needs to be. There’s intel and planning to do now. He talks to Fury on the comms and he and Natasha look over building schematics. He gathers them around him so they can talk about the plan.

After an hour, he’s who everyone needs him to be. A hero that saves the world. It’s not quite as easy to slip into that mindset, but he gets there. The headspace. He gets sharp and clear. Maybe a little cold. Bucky makes him feel hazy and fuzzy and sleepy with contentment. Petulant. He gets to be demanding with Bucky and that’s not useful now.

There is nothing legal or fair or moral about what’s coming. Decisions will be made on instinct and people will die and that’s all there is to it. There won’t be safe words or hugs or getting to complain about the unfairness of it all. No one gives a shit if it’s hard for him to make a bad call that gets people killed. When people die, the sympathy is for the victims and their families. Steve doesn’t get to be coddled. And he shouldn’t. Of course not.

They’re 20 minutes out from the drop when Steve checks his phone. He has a few pictures. There’s a pair of yellow silk panties and it’s clear that Bucky is in a store. The next pair is pink and has lace ruffles on the ass. That one has a comment of ‘so fucking hot’ under it. He puts the phone away. He can’t be that person and this person at the same time.

Tony sits down next to him. “How about a sushi party?”

“How about it?” Steve’s voice is flat in response. He doesn’t even know what that means.

“You make your own rolls. The ingredients are all there and people get to put their’s together. It’s a way to have fun while you eat.”

“Why can’t eating just be eating?”

Tony sighs. “Natasha! What do you think about a sushi party?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” she says, smiling.

Steve pretends to go to sleep.

***

The mission is a lot of sitting the fuck around. And it grows. It isn’t just their group but twenty local guys who don’t speak English, in a poor, hellish little country, where they wait for shit to happen. By tuesday, Steve is about to lose his fucking mind. He hasn’t showered in days. There’s no cell reception even if he did want to call Bucky and he certainly won’t do it on official channels and have it be patched through. When he does sleep, he dreams of Bucky being gone or worse. He dreams of him losing an arm and screaming.

He wakes up more than once with tears on his face and the horrible realization that sometimes having love might be worse than not having it. His heart is outside of his body and elsewhere and he has no control over what happens to it. He dreams of Bucky with Sam and stalks out of the plane in the middle of the night and destroys a rock with his fist.

On Wednesday night, things finally happen. There’s bullets, an explosion and Steve gets shrapnel down the right hand side of his body. His cheek and neck bleed copiously. His chest is fine, protected. But below the waist, the material of his costume gets shredded and he spends an hour picking pieces of metal out of his skin while his body pushes out some of it and regenerates around pieces of others. He hates having to use the scalpel and actively cut into his own flesh.

Natasha comes over to help him. He wants to argue but she shakes her head. “Don’t make me tell Bucky. You know he’d be angry if you refused help.”

How does he argue that? “It’s cold,” he says, instead and wants that to be the excuse he needs to put Bucky’s scarf on. But, he feels too exposed and vulnerable. Too desperate and if he even reaches for it he might just bawl like a baby.

He gets his phone instead. “I’m safe. Heading back. No ETA yet. At least 12 hours.”

“Miss you. Glad you’re safe. I’ll be waiting,” Bucky says back and some of the tension disappears.

***

They land on Thursday night. It’s already 9pm. Maria is there to meet them and Steve goes through it with her and is in his Stark Tower apartment at 11:30 pm. He’s already texted Bucky and said he won’t be there tonight.

Steve can’t see him yet. His scarf is gone.

They’d landed and gotten their things together and Steve had gone to debrief, opened his bag and it just… wasn’t there. He doesn’t even know who to call. Is there a quinjet lost and found? He’d gone back to the roof, but of course the plane wasn’t there and he just… what does he do?

It’s such a devastating loss he can’t even really think about it. It creeps into his mind and he distracts himself over and over again. He doesn’t even sleep. He paces. He goes to the gym and he runs. He boxes until 4am. He keeps moving and fighting and thinking, and as long as he isn’t still then maybe he won’t have to really think about how much he’s fucked up. What will Bucky even say? How does he tell his daddy that one of the things he’d treasured most in the world is gone? That it might have been gone for days because Steve didn’t even fucking check.

Bucky deserves better than that. Someone thoughtful and appreciative and who can keep track of his things and who doesn’t have to shut down and compartmentalize like some weirdo just to survive.

And it gets _worse_. He’s got his first therapy appointment at 9am. He can’t do that. What would he say? He’d just walk in and start crying. He can’t go. He sits in his apartment at Stark Tower with the god damned lights off,and the blinds down, staring at nothing until 9:30 am because then it’s just too late to go. He calls the office, pays for the hour over the phone and schedules another appointment. That’s something, right?

Bucky calls him at 10 am. He should answer the phone. But, if he hears Bucky’s voice he will break down and cry and Bucky is at work and cannot help him. He texts him instead. “In a debrief all day, see you tonight.”

“Home at 4”

That perks Steve up. He can do _that._ That gives him ages to fix things. That’s a goal to work towards. He leaves a message for Maria about the scarf and sneaks out of the Tower without meeting anyone and goes to the YSL boutique to buy another scarf, but they don’t have it. It’s out of season.

He calls Pepper. She promises to get someone to find it and have it sent over to his apartment. She sends him a picture of the one he lost, at least, he’s pretty sure it’s the same one, and ten minutes later she says an assistant is going to get it and bring it to him. He’s back at his place and in possession of a new scarf before lunchtime.

Things are fine. Things will be okay.

His apartment is month to month so he’ll be out two weeks rent but so fucking what? He packs all his things to take to Bucky’s and plans out his preparations for seeing Bucky again. He makes a list. A god damned list of all the grooming and well, primping, he’s going to do for tonight. Bucky isn’t going to let him out of bed for the entire weekend if Steve can help it.

He’s ready to leave at four but then realizes he has too much stuff for his bike. Should he put his things in an uber? Take a bag and come back? And then there’s traffic. Somehow, even though he had all fucking day and literally the only thing he is concerned about and wanting to have happen is to reunite with Bucky, he doesn’t get to Bucky’s until five.

There’s a van out front. White but with a tuna on a surfboard holding chopsticks on it. It’s called Tuna Time. Sushi? It’s inane. In the back of his mind an alarm goes off. The door is ajar and Steve goes in, hears Bucky talking to someone. But, that’s fine. Because Steve trusts Bucky, and they just went through this with Sam, and he isn’t going to freak out over nothing.

Steve puts down his bag and the delivery guy nods to him and walks out. There are several platters on the counter. No. “What the fuck is this?” Steve demands.

Bucky is already moving towards him. He looks Steve up and down. “You look perfect, sweetheart. How are you?” He asks, pulling him in for a kiss and a thorough groping, which is nice and all but… what the ever loving fuck is going on?

He pulls back. “No, seriously. What the _fuck _is going on?”

“People are coming over for dinner. Tony and Pepper, Nat and Sam. Remember?”

“Tony?_ Sam?_”He asks, each one louder. “I just fucking_ got _here. I’ve been living in Tony’s god damned fucking pocket for a fucking week! _Cancel it!_” He yells.

Bucky is looking at Steve like he’s crazy. Which is so fucking typical of Steve’s life. He thought, he would have _bet money,_ that he had it all worked out. “Tony had the sushi delivered. Everyone is already on their way. We can’t, baby.”

“But… no. I can’t.” He swallows hard, he blinks rapidly. “Daddy, no. Not tonight.”

Bucky gives him a don’t-do-this-now look and says firmly, “You’re gonna have to keep it together for a few hours. Then we have the weekend. Go put your bag upstairs and wash up. You can help me put out the snacks and the food and get ready.”

“But—“

“There isn’t time, babydoll.”

“Sure. Okay,” Steve says, because he’s an adult. “We’ll wait. It’s already been a week. What’s another few hours?” He turns around and gets his bag, stalks up the stairs and gently puts it in the closet because he really wants to throw it. He takes his jacket off, and the scarf, and puts them down, too. He washes his hands and checks his hair.

The doorbell rings. Fifty fucking bucks says it’s god damned, annoying as hell, fucking Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter might be Bucky's pov. but it isn't written yet so it could be a few days. and, I love you all and am so happy you're all engaged and still enjoying the story. it's such a monster now!!


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky POV

Steve is upstairs for long enough that Bucky gets everything sorted out and then he opens a beer because… this is not good. He looks at his watch. Someone will likely be here within the next five minutes. The doorbell rings and it’s another delivery. Pie. Do people have pie and sushi?

He takes the three pies and goes back into the kitchen. “What a disaster,” he says, to himself. Fuck it. He leaves the front door open and goes upstairs to find Steve. Steve who is sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. His cheeks are wet. “Sweetheart,” Bucky says, and moves closer. He goes down to the ground before him so he can see his face.

Steve’s lower lip is trembling with emotion which is a very bad sign. His hands are cold. “How could you do this?” Steve demands, voice hitched and Bucky doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“I… didn’t? Do what? The dinner?”

“Yes, the dinner.”

“Steve, _you_ set this up. You agreed at the party last weekend. I got the text from Tony asking about sushi and said I’d check with you, and he said you thought it was a great idea. That was… the day you left? I understand you’re not up for this and… if you want to stay upstairs while I get rid of them I’ll do that. I think people will be here any moment. But, I’ll just pack stuff up, people can take what they want and then go. I’ll say….” He has no idea what he will fucking say. It’s not like Steve can get sick so that excuse is out. And he’s not going to say Steve is mentally not up for it if he hasn’t talked about saying that with him.

“I didn’t agree to this.”

Bucky wants to say that if Steve had come home last night or let Bucky come to him at the Tower, then they would have discussed it, and been able to get out of it. Even this morning, when Bucky tried to call him, or if Steve had called him back, then this all could have been avoided. Does Steve really not remember discussing this at the party on Saturday?

He did have ginger up his ass and it had made Steve a little stilted in his interactions, but Bucky hadn’t thought he was struggling and so far out of it that he wouldn’t remember agreeing to this.

Steve had been quiet, but he’d managed to say the right things and seem like he was vaguely together. If Steve doesn’t even remember what was going on at the party, had used that much mental energy and physical control to keep himself locked down, then he’s even better at concealing and pretending than Bucky thought. Which is worrying. It hints at whole new levels of misery and pretending that Bucky hadn’t even guessed at.

What if Steve isn’t showing him everything? If all he’s been looking at is the surface of the water and there’s actually an iceberg ahead?

“Babydoll. At the party, you talked to Tony while Nat was there and agreed on the date. I’m a little worried you don’t remember, but that’s something else to talk about later.” He cups Steve’s face in his hands and kisses his forehead, trying to come up with a solution. He can’t stop thinking about how Steve must feel.

“Okay, so you finally get back from your mission and you come home, and surprise you have to have dinner with people you’ve just seen for a week, when you just want to be with me. Yeah, I’d be miserable too. Fuck. I was surprised you were willing to do it.”

“You mean you were proud of me?”

“No,” he says, carefully. There are landmines everywhere. “I was… I took it as a sign that I was good for you and maybe that just went to my ego or something, I don’t know. I want to make you happy and support you, and I was so pleased to think that’s what this was, and I should have looked closer. Okay. I have to go back downstairs. What would you like to do now?”

Steve shrugs, shoulders heavy. Atlas.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to go down there.”

“You don’t have to. I was just wondering. Let me go see if anyone is here. How about you lay in bed and rest, go take a bath if you want one, or go do your enema? And I’ll be upstairs as soon as I can get rid of them?”

He seems like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He nods. “Go on, Buck. I’m fine.”

Buck. That’s a bad sign. He surges up, kisses Steve and presses him back to the bed. Steve goes easily, boneless. Not with lust but an almost hopeless surrender. There’s no arching into Bucky or clinging to him. He isn’t hard. “I missed you, baby. I’ll be back as soon as I can and I’ll take care of you. We’ll work it out. Everything will be fine.”

Steve opens his mouth under him, kisses back hard and then turns his head away. “You’re going to be so mad at me.”

“No, I’m going to be sweet to my good boy and take care of you.”

He shakes his head. “Just go,” he says, miserably. Like that alone took everything to say.

They both hear the front door close, Steve’s body going tense. Bucky pushes off of him, gives him a last look before he closes the bedroom door and goes back downstairs.

The good news is that it’s Natasha. If it had been Tony, Bucky might lost his shit. “Hello. Welcome to our home,” he says, distracted as hell.

“Our?”

“I think so. I hope so.” He clears his throat.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

For just a moment, he contemplates keeping his mouth shut, but Natasha knows the two of them and he has no one else to vent to. Plus, Steve needs him to be calm. If Bucky tells someone, he’ll be better. The words practically explode out of him. “He didn’t fucking know it was happening! How could no one have said ‘see you tomorrow!’ And, I’ve been half dead on my feet worrying about him all week, totally jammed up my schedule because I wanted to try and get Monday off to stay home with him, and now he’s upset because of this dinner party. And, you know what, I didn’t want to have a fucking dinner party on Friday night!” He practically shouts. “Sorry. Sorry. This is—“

“Uh oh. You’re freaking out already?” Sam says, setting a six pack on the counter.

Bucky sighs, sharply. “Yeah. I can’t bitch at him because he’s already had a rough couple of days, but fuck.” He looks at Natasha. “Teach you to be first one in the door. Sorry I just bitched at you.” 

Nat shrugs. “It’s nice. Most people are too scared to bitch to me. All I know is that Tony sent a text saying 6pm and gave me your address. I thought everyone knew. Tony was so excited, too. If we’d seen Steve today then it probably would have come out.”

“You didn’t see him today?” Bucky asks.

Tony and Pepper come in. Tony is carrying a complicated flower arrangement. He holds it out to Bucky. “I didn’t get you this. It’s nice, but this wasn’t my idea.”

Pepper elbows him in the ribs. “Bucky, your place is lovely,” she says, and Tony starts commenting about… something. Okay, the man is a lot. Nat is giving Bucky a look that he can’t decipher. Sam, being a good bro, turns around and starts talking to Pepper and Tony which gives Bucky a moment to think. How does he get rid of them without saying Steve isn’t mentally up for it?

“Steve!” Tony yells, and Bucky is startled to see Steve entering the kitchen with what looks like a fairly convincing smile on his face.

“What can I get you to drink?” Steve asks, calm and easy, a little bit Captain America, picking up the six pack Sam brought and taking it to the fridge. He opens it up and Tony hustles over to talk to him. Tony would literally leap over the island to get to Steve if that’s what it took. He’s like a nervous but friendly dog.

They start discussing the various options, Tony launching into a detailed discussion about beer that Steve makes a hmm sound of interest about, and Bucky now has even less idea how to get them out of this. Then Steve laughs and it sounds genuine and Bucky knows it isn’t because Steve is a god damned disaster and it’s like one of those movies where everyone suddenly realizes they’re all about to die in the next thirty seconds. His baby is fucked up. So fucked up.

Steve lifts his beer, smiles and starts telling Tony a story about Howard and his days in the war and Bucky kind of wants to just shout at them all to leave because this isn’t Steve and it terrifies him that he’s this surprised.

“I hate to say that I’m going to have to eat and run,” Sam says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It was a big week and I’m beat.”

“Me too. Exhausted,” Natasha says. She glares at Tony. “Wasn’t it a long mission?”

“Well, yes, but we just got here. Do you know how long it takes to get to Brooklyn on a Friday night? Ow, what?”

Pepper is glaring at Tony as she says, “Well, I’m exhausted. So yes, lets eat immediately and then we’ll get out of your hair. We’ll do something else some other time.”

“Don’t feel like you have to rush out on our account,” Steve says, sounding sincere.

Tony gestures at Steve. “See? It’s fine. He wants us to stay. I had Jarvis create a virtual reality Pictionary.”

Bucky can’t even guess what that would look like. But, he knows enough not to ask.

“Another time,” Pepper says, firmly.

“Pepper what would you like to drink?” Steve asks. Pepper moves towards the fridge and Sam turns back to him and Natasha. A party-crushing pow wow.

“I need a fire alarm or something. Pull the handle and everyone just has to go,” Bucky whispers.

Steve laughs at something Pepper says and hands her a beer.

“He seems okay,” Sam says. Nat makes a hmm sound and Bucky doesn’t know her that well, but that seems like the equivalent of ‘are you fucking crazy?’

Pepper wants to go see all the food she ordered and everyone wanders out to the dining room, except for Steve, who opens up the fridge again and stares at nothing. His shoulders are tense and his hand on the fridge is white with strain. Bucky goes up to him and puts his arms around him, pressing against him. “You’re very brave,” he says.

Steve barks out a bitter sounding laugh.

“This is the last thing in the world you want to be doing. You had an out and you came anyway. I know it’s really hard, Steve. I’m proud of you. And, if you can’t stay, then just disappear and it will be fine.” Bucky hears Sam comment on the wasabi and sighs in relief that they’re already eating.

Steve doesn’t turn around. He shifts like he’s bracing himself. “I love you. I… maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but I do,” Steve says, almost desperately.

“I know, sweetheart. I love you, too.”

“No, I mean… whatever you decide later. I know you’ll want to punish me and I’m glad. Whatever you need to do.”

“I don’t want to punish you for this.” There is clearly something else going on but he has no idea what it could be and this is definitely not the time to get into it.

“No, not this… there are other things.”

“Well, that sounds ominous. Okay, you’ll tell me and if punishment is required then we’ll do that and get it out of the way so we can start the weekend properly. I don’t have to go in on Monday. I’m not sure if you have to go in, but if you don’t, we can just be together.”

“I have therapy. I had to…. I can’t do this right now. Later? Daddy?”

The relief of Steve calling him daddy is immense. “Anything, my good boy.” It’s probably too enthusiastic. But, he doesn’t know if Steve wants to keep up his ‘I’m fine’ persona or if he can bend a little and take affection and then get his guard back up. Steve doesn’t even want to talk to him when he’s on mission. Isn’t this another mission? Is Steve’s whole life a weird mission and he’s pretending everything is fine and absolutely everything isn’t?

He holds Steve’s hand as they go to the dining room. Steve lets him go and takes an empty seat between Natasha and Tony. Bucky sits at the other end next to Sam and Pepper. Steve takes some sushi and eats sushi with a single minded focus that makes Bucky nervous. He’s got that thousand yard stare, not really with them vibe, and it’s actually making Bucky sick just to look at him. His poor baby is a mess. He is a mess, and it’s going to be a disaster. He can’t imagine what Steve might have done to think he needs to be punished for, when it’s so clear he needs to be taken care of.

Bucky takes some sushi and eats absently.

“So, Steve. What did you get up to today?” Tony asks, “Today was a chocolate chip day.” Bucky looks Steve over, hoping to get some clue of what the problem might be so he’s not trying to come up with a solution with zero time to plan.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing? At least you got a new—”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, and Bucky contemplates throwing himself across the table to save Tony from murder. Actual, physical murder. The absolute death glare that Steve gives to Tony is so intense Tony notices.

“Yeah, it was… nothing.” Tony looks at Pepper and says in a loud whisper. “What? It’s not good? I thought it turned out? You found one and— _ow!_”

Pepper smiles at them all.

Fortunately, Sam comes to the rescue. “I was watching tv and this gal was on the news saying she won the lottery and she was going to use the money to buy a hundred alpacas. Who needs 100 of them? What do you do with them?”

And, of course, Tony has an opinion. By the end of the short dinner Bucky knows that no one has any idea what you can do with alpaca fur or if you can eat them. He knows that if one could make a sweater out of said fur that Tony would want to build a factory to spin the wool, and that Steve would never, _ever_ wear anything that came from Tony’s factory.

Steve actually said that. It’s a slightly bizarre conversation and Bucky and Natasha keep looking at each other to make sure they know they’re the two sane people in the room. Pepper is probably sane but she just stares dopily at Tony and makes polite comments. If she puts up with him then she must be a little nuts.

“Well, I guess it’s time to go,” Pepper says, pushing back her chair.

“But, there’s desert,” Tony says.

“No, I forgot to order it. Sorry everyone,” Pepper says, firmly.

“I don’t need the calories anyway,” Natasha says, and somehow everyone is at the door, out the door, and they’re alone and it hasn’t even been an hour.

Thank fuck.

“Fucking alpacas,” Steve says, when the door closes. He gives Steve a kiss on the cheek.

“I had a nice time with your friends,” he says, thinking that seems fairly safe.

“But not with me,” Steve says.

So. Not an innocuous comment. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up, we can have some pie and we’ll work it out.”

Steve just stands there. He isn’t looking Bucky in the eye. “I don’t deserve to know, but… how are you going to punish me?” Steve takes a deep breath, blinks.

“I don’t think I am going to punish you. There’s no reason to punish you.”

“Yes, there is.”

“What?”

“I don’t… you’ll be disappointed. And I… fixed it. Can you punish me and not know what it is? Please?”

Bucky goes close to him, stands before him but keeps his hands to himself because he just doesn’t know what the hell is going on yet. “No, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You have to tell me. You’ll feel better if you tell me.”

“Daddy, I won’t.”

“The weight of whatever it is, is too much. That isn’t what I want for you. I’m your daddy. Who gets to carry the weight?” Steve sobs and Bucky pulls him closer, tucks Steve’s face into his neck. Steve clutches at him, sobs for a minute and then tries to undo Bucky’s pants.

“No. Tell me.”

“Make me,” he whispers.

He kisses Steve slowly. Bucky has to get this right. “No. I don’t have to make you. You’re my good boy and you’re going to tell me because I’m your daddy. You owe me the truth even when it’s difficult. You need to trust that I’ll take care of it and you.” Steve goes weak and hangs in Bucky’s arms. “Stevie, you can always tell me and I swear I’ll try not to let you down.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But, I’m not. Tell me,” he whispers, and kisses his jaw and his neck. “I love you. I want to use you. I’ve missed you so much. I need you, sweetheart. Tell me so we can move on.” _Please,_ Bucky silently begs, running his hands up and down Steve’s arms, pressing him into the wall and kissing him. Steve needs to tell him. He’s been through so much and he’s so fragile that Bucky can’t hurt him without a reason, not when Steve is going to think anything is a punishment. Every hurt is going to be bad and isn’t going to give either of them pleasure or comfort until this is out of the way.

“But… if I _can’t _tell you, you’ll make me?”

“No, sweetheart. I don’t think I will,” he says, finding it hard to get the words out. Steve looks into his eyes, his eyes vivid and his lashes all clumped together with tears. He’s so beautiful. And he doesn’t mean that physically, he means this, the surrender and how vulnerable Steve is willing to be. How afraid and trusting. Only Bucky gets to see him like this. Steve is the most fragile house of cards and it’d be so easy to get it all wrong and have him crumble into pieces. Bucky’s worried he’s going to fuck it all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this helps make Bucky a good guy again. he tries!


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Feels ahead. So much drama. But, things will get better soon!!! and if this leaves you depressed, may I recommend an upbeat sugar baby fic I just started.
> 
> and, also. I am not a therapist, I just play one in front of my keyboard.

“You should be scared,” Steve says. He feels like an overly full, precariously balanced, glass of… acid or something. He is toxic and he is filled up with it.

“Why?”

“Because I’m a disaster.”

“I hate to tell you, but I’ve kind of worked that out. You’re a disaster, that’s part of the human condition, it doesn’t mean you can’t become less of a disaster, and I love you anyway. Everyone is a disaster at least once.”

God, Bucky sounds so sincere and soft. Like it really is okay. His daddy waits. He takes a breath. He has to trust his daddy. “I lost your scarf,” he whispers.

There’s a moment where Bucky frowns. “I thought I saw it when you got home?”

“No, I got a replacement, but it’s not the same. I didn’t mean to lose it.” He might throw up. Bile fills his mouth.

“Of course, you didn’t! That’s your scarf, sweetheart. I gave it to you and I’m sorry you lost it. I’m sure it was upsetting enough. Why would I want to punish you for _that_? Sweetheart, you need a hug and a cuddle not… punishment. Do you understand that?” Bucky asks, looking at Steve like he’s an alien.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I just got off the plane and it wasn’t there and it was all….” He sobs.

Bucky kisses his forehead, holds him tight. “Is that why you didn’t come home last night?”

He sobs again, in answer.

“I can’t punish you for that, Steve. I won’t. Let’s go upstairs,” he says, giving him a tug.

“No! There’s more. I had a therapy appointment today and I didn’t go. I just… I sat in the dark like an idiot and waited til it was too late. I just… I couldn’t do it.” Bucky asks so little of him and he couldn’t do it.

“Therapy is hard. It’s a lot of emotional labor. Sometimes it is too much and that’s okay.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not!” He says, laughing a little, but clearly because he’s exasperated. “I’m a therapist. I know that for a fact. Why would I lie about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s easy. I should be able to do this, I can do this. I got a new appointment for Monday morning.”

“I’m sure you can. And you go this Monday?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then I’ll go with you. I’ll meet the therapist and make sure I like her, and then I’ll sit in the waiting room until you’re finished, and we’ll come straight home and go back to bed for the day. And, if you decide you don’t like her, then we will find you someone else. Who is it?” He asks.

Bucky doesn’t know her, it is a big city, but the fact that Nat likes her has to be worth something. Bucky takes him to the living room, sits down on the couch and pulls him into his lap, legs on either side of his. “Okay. How about we pretend you just got home from you mission? Pie or bath?”

Steve tries to get off of his lap. Bucky’s hands sink into the muscles of Steve’s thighs. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t deserve pie or a bath. You need to punish me. I won’t feel better until you do.”

“What does that mean? Do you need to feel forgiven? Do you need physical pain? Do you need to cry? Do you just want to get fucked hard? I’m trying to figure out where you are emotionally.”

“I fucked up. I fucked up by…” he swallows. He can’t even say it. “Because I lost it and because I was too pathetic to even go to therapy.”

Bucky kisses him on the forehead. “Pretty boy. You want daddy to make you miserable? Punish you so you know you’re forgiven?”

“Yes, please,” he says, tremulously. He doesn’t know if he wants it, but he needs it. There’s a horrible crawling feeling inside of him, and it will only settle when Bucky fixes it. Fixes him. Bucky makes a hmm sound and brushes Steve’s hair off his face, peering into his eyes. His I’m-reading-your-mind look. 

“Okay. If that’s what you need. Punishment.” Bucky keeps touching him, soothing him by squeezing his arms and running his hands all over him, brushing a thumb over his lips or his jaw while he thinks. “Right. It…. Doesn’t stop unless you safe word. Do you understand?”

Steve’s breathing hitches. It’s scary and awful which makes it good. He slumps against Bucky.

“It’s going to be very difficult for you, and daddy is going to come very hard, and you’ll know you did things you didn’t like in order to make me happy. That is punishment, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy. I love you,” he says. Somewhere under all this misery is his daddy’s love for him, too. He wants to believe it. Feel it filling him up. 

“Good. It ends when I say it ends. Do you understand?”

“How long?” he asks, because that’s weird and different.

“I don’t know yet,” he says, carefully.

Steve’s scared now. Terrified. He starts to cry.

“Let’s get you upstairs. Get you dressed like I want and put on your collar. Who do you belong to, baby?”

“You. _Please_. You, daddy.”

“Exactly.”

“Daddy, I did my enema an my place. I wanted to be ready for you.”

Bucky gets him to his feet and leads him up the stairs. “Did you want to be ready for me, or did you think you didn’t deserve special time with daddy?”

Steve sobs. He hates that his daddy always knows. Bucky takes him by the chin, makes him meet his gaze. “That’s not your decision anymore. From now on you need to ask me. You don’t deprive either of us of that. Who’s chore is it?”

“M-mine.”

“Who do you do it for?”

“You. Daddy.”

“That’s right. And who owns you?”

“You. Daddy.”

“That’s right. It’s mine, and _you’re_ mine, and you don’t get to punish yourself because you’ve made a mistake. You like your enemas to be with daddy and I like it, too. If my boy fucks up then he will tell me so I can fix it. You don’t get to punish yourself. Not anymore. Are you listening?”

Yes and no. “I hope so, daddy. But it’s hard.”

“I know, sweetheart. It is hard. All you can do is try. From now on, not just tonight, you always come to me for any punishment. I want it,” he says, sounding greedy and determined.

“Bucky, I don’t know how.”

“We need to find a way then. That’s where things need to be now. We’re going to make it easier for you. You think about it. I have an idea, but I’m willing to entertain other options… I think.”

He doesn’t know what that means. Bucky gestures to the floor and Steve drops to his knees. Bucky fastens his collar on him and has him take his shirt off so he can put on the wrist cuffs. He gets Steve’s pants off and puts the ankle cuffs on and then looks at him.

“Beautiful. You did a good job getting perfect for me, didn’t you?”

“I tried.”

“You succeeded.”

Steve nods. Hopes that’s the end of it. He’s naked and half hard, too emotional and fearful of his punishment to get erect. He doesn’t deserve good things after what he’s done. Not yet. Bucky undoes his pants and gets his cock out, presses it into Steve’s mouth. “Go slow. It’s just to help me think and keep you quiet.”

Steve whimpers and sucks gently, his cock instantly getting hard when he gets the scent of his daddy in his lungs and his taste in his mouth. It’s been so long. He moans and starts to tremble. Bucky laughs gently at him. Pleased. “Oh dear. It’s been a long week, has it?”

It has. It’s been days of being pent up and wanting, utterly desperate to be owned and claimed and now his daddy is smiling at him and his cock is in Steve’s mouth and just like that he’s on the edge. He groans, hating his stupid biology.

He looks at Bucky imploringly. He needs to stop or he’ll come. He doesn’t deserve it. Bucky makes a fist in his hair, tight and hard. “You’re a slut for daddy. I like that. Go ahead and come. It’ll be miserable soon enough, sweetheart. Have faith.”

Steve comes, the very promise in his words, that Steve will be miserable enough soon, steals the last of his flimsy restraint. Bucky pets him for a moment while Steve settles. His dick doesn’t go soft at all, but now it’s wet in front of him, all over the wood floor, and he’s embarrassed and ashamed. This is meant to be about his daddy. He should be punished for this, too. Just throw it on the pile of mistakes. 

He pulls off. “You have to. You promised you’d punish me. I need that.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Get on my cock. I will punish you and you’re going to be very unhappy. Don’t make it worse for yourself,” he says, clearly disappointed at Steve’s outburst. Steve sucks him back into his mouth, not sure he believes him because Bucky clearly just wants to be nice to him. Bucky pulls out almost instantly.

“I’m sorry!”

“Where’s your blanket?”

“I don’t need my shirt.”

“That’s _one,_” Bucky says. “I’m going to print a list for you to look at tomorrow. Things you buy for a new baby. And every time you don’t do what I want you to do, every time you resist your punishment, we’re going to buy another thing off the list. Do you understand? And that’s a yes or no question.”

He’s filled with nerves. He’s so hard, but he doesn’t want that. He kisses his daddy’s hip. “Yes, daddy.”

“Any questions, any backtalk _at all_ and you get something from the list. Have you heard of Boudreaux’s Butt Paste?”

He actually waits for Steve to answer. This is a real question. Tears fill his eyes. “No, daddy,” he says, quickly because he’s already terrified of another mark, another thing for babies that his daddy will subject him to. Back to age play, always the fucking age play, and he doesn’t want it. Not at god damned all. “You put it on a baby’s bottom for diaper rash. That’s first on the list, sweetheart. You’ve already earned yourself a tube of it. It’s white and thick. I’m gonna use you and then I’m gonna take care of that pretty little hole with some diaper cream.” He pauses. “And _then _I’m gonna take a fucking picture. Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Good, boy. What a sweet _little_ boy.” The tears fall. “I was going to ease you into age play because I want you to love it, but I’m beginning to think I’ve gone about this all wrong. Maybe I got you all wrong, too, my little love,” he says, and his daddy sounds like he’s going to start crying, too.

Steve bites his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he keeps the sob inside. Bucky grabs his chin, makes him look at him. “You’re hiding from me. But, I’m your daddy, Steve. You need a daddy all the time. You need me to watch your every move, to control every decision, and move you make, until I think you’re ready to make your own decisions again. Tell me I’m wrong,” he growls.

Steve sort of shrugs, but it’s kind of a hunching, weak shiver of movement. What is he supposed to say? Bucky is right. But, Bucky can’t mean this literally. “So, I’m going to be your daddy for real, this dynamic is something I will make you love. You’re going to be my little boy. We’re gonna fucking do this, do you understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers. Bucky wipes away his tears.

“Do you hate it already?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, more strongly.

“Then it’s punishment. Don’t you have a clever daddy?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, and for some damned reason he finds himself falling forward, kissing Bucky’s balls and burying his face in the crease of his thigh as he sobs.

“I know, baby. You just need to cry it all out. I think I figured it out, Steve. I hope so. And I’m sorry it took me so long, but I know why you cry all the time.” His hands are in Steve’s hair and then he feeds his cock back into Steve’s mouth, giving him something to suck on.

Bucky’s actually softening a little and Steve looks up, hoping the reason is because he doesn’t like the age play all that much, after all. So long as he’s not going soft because he doesn’t want Steve. “Sweetheart, you cry because you’re unhappy and I think _that’s_ the real you, sweetheart. You’re always in pain. Maybe the miracle is when you don’t cry.”

Steve closes his eyes tightly against the truth of that statement.

“Do you feel like you’re in pain all the time?”

“No, daddy,” he says, and sucks the head back into his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue.

“Good boy. Just the head so you can answer. Your mouth is just a home for my dick and you’re keeping it warm while we talk. And it’s to soothe you, too. Little boys like their pacifiers. Tell daddy when you’re not in pain.”

He pops off and licks his lips, swallows. “I’m only in pain when you hurt me or when I have to leave you. If something goes wrong with us. Or if I get disappointed, I suppose.” He presses his lips back to Bucky’s cock. Waiting.

“I don’t think that’s true, baby. I think you’re in pain more than that. Every time you wrap your hand around your stomach, every time you reach for my sweater, those are times when you’re in pain, too. When it’s hard to get out of bed and everything is horrible and hard, that’s pain.”

Steve almost laughs. Bucky is ridiculous. “So what? If that’s pain then I guess I’m in pain when I get a paper cut or stub my toe. The definition can be as broad as you want. Sure. Fine,” he says, not sure what Bucky is getting at.

“What’s real pain then?” Bucky asks. Why is that question an explosion inside him?

“N-no daddy,” that’s too much. He’ll cry and he’ll hurt and he’ll never stop. It will be overwhelming and unending and Bucky will definitely want to be rid of him then. He shakes his head, raises a hand like Bucky might be about to hit him.

“Then you have to accept my definition. You’re in pain all the time.”

A tiny flicker of anger lights up inside him and he clings to it, wants to nurture it. “_No._ Pain is poverty and my ma dying of TB and working herself to the bone, _for me_,” he says, “Pain is…. Was always thinking I was going to die and her worrying. Crying as she sat with me because I was sick again. Because, I couldn’t even stay healthy. Pain is… knowing I ruined her life. Pain is the war and all those families who had _healthy_ sons that didn’t come back and…. Daddy, please, no.”

Bucky moves away from him, grabbing tissues and coming back. He takes a shirt out of the laundry and hands it to Steve. “Hold it because I want you to.”

He sobs and presses it against his face.

“Stevie, blow your nose. Tilt your head up for me,” he orders and he makes Steve blow his nose which makes him sob even harder. His daddy shouldn’t see the nasty things about him. He should see the perfect things. External physical details Steve controls that. He makes himself a gift that anyone would want. If his ma could see how much better he is, god she’d have been so fucking happy at how healthy he is. The opportunities he had. He’d have been able to let her rest for once. 

But she can’t. And, how much better is he, what sort of strength does he actually have, when he’s sitting on Bucky’s floor, wearing a collar around his neck and calling the man daddy? He’s trying to bask in the glow of Bucky’s strength, suck it out of his dick and have if fucked into him, and all that does is break him down more. He should be strong but he’s weak. “I can’t do this, daddy. Please don’t make me do this,” he begs and then he’s heaving in misery and he presses down to the floor, kisses Bucky’s foot, anything to get out of this.

“Are you safe-wording, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” It doesn’t even hurt. That’s the horrible thing.

There’s a pause. Maybe a hesitation. “I don’t want you to. This is the poison that needs to come out, sweetheart. This is how I get to know you and own you and protect you. Daddy doesn’t want you to safe word. You are in pain and I’m making you dwell in that pain right this moment and it’s so hard it makes you want to safe-word. Do you understand that?”

“Oh, god,” he cries, lost and hopeless. It’s just _words._ They’re fucking words! Why is it so hard? He had scoliosis and his back always hurt. He’d try to run and he’d have an asthma attack. His heart didn’t beat right. He’d throw up and have fevers and migraines and just _pain_ and now he has none of that and who is he to still be hurting?

“My beautiful boy. You’re amazing, Steve. I love you so much. You have no idea. I promise I’m going to do better. I thought I was and I wasn’t,” he says, and Steve gets up and throws his arms around his neck because Bucky has tears on his cheeks and that’s not right. Bucky is good and strong and everything Steve needs.

“You’re in pain all the time and that’s okay. We can get you better.”

He shakes his head. Bucky is focusing on the wrong thing. He needs a proper punishment, not this. “Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart,” he says, and Steve goes, Bucky’s hand on his back the whole way. Steve has to blow his nose again and Bucky holds the tissue, making Steve feel lost and small. “Let me get you a plug for the night. I’ll be right back.” Steve buries his face in Bucky’s shirt and then reaches under his pillow for his real… fuck, it really is his blanket.

Bucky comes back with lube and a small plug, gets into bed with him and moves close. He gets Steve’s thigh up on his hip, presses a dollop of lube to Steve’s hole and starts to kiss him, Steve writhing back into him, wanting Bucky’s fingers.

And then there’s more lube and it’s just gentle pressing, so soft and sweet that it drives him crazy. “Daddy?” He finally says, on the verge of coming and Bucky gets the towel ready so he doesn’t make a mess everywhere. “Oh god,” he gasps, horrified and taken care of. He comes when Bucky rubs over his prostate and Bucky’s two fingers come out of him for a moment, so he can pull back the towel.

“Let’s just check and make sure, baby. There’s my good little boy. Doing your mess right where daddy wanted you to. Look at that pretty cock. Don’t you feel better?” He wants to say he’s not a fucking dog who pissed in the yard instead of the rug, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good, Steve.”

Fingers go back into him and he whines. He needs to get fucked. There’s going to be no stretch, no pain. Bucky chuckles. “Give daddy an age. Think about it. How old is my little boy?”

“Daddy, no, I’m not—“

“That’s two. Diaper cream and what else?” Steve snaps his mouth shut. Bucky has three fingers just teasing at his entrance. “Give me a number or it’s another thing bought for my little boy.”

“Six,” he says, and blushes. He fucking hates this.

“Good,” Bucky says, seriously. “Are you ready for your night medicine now?”

“Are you… is that what you’re always going to call it? If you come in me and plug me up before bed? I’m not trying to be a brat. I’m asking. Daddy.”

“Maybe. Do you have something better?”

“I don’t like the idea of medicine. Maybe… maybe v-vitamins?” Steve hates that he suggested it. Despises it and himself.

“Get on your back,” Bucky growls, suddenly getting with the program. He puts a little slick on his cock and has Steve spread his legs. “Yeah, daddy is going to give you your _night vitamins_ now. So you can grow up to be big and strong. Isn’t that right?” He demands.

The head of his cock is touching Steve’s rim, waiting. “Yes, daddy.”

“Get that thumb into your mouth.”

“Bucky.”

“No, it’s daddy now. And that’s a protest against your punishment. You just went to four sweetheart,” he says, and presses into Steve. Steve groans at the pleasure. There’s a little pain but not much, Bucky having spent so long opening him up.

“Now you’re at five,” Bucky groans. “Fuck, I’ve missed your ass, babydoll.”

“Why, Daddy?” Steve asks, having no idea why he just got another mark.

“Now you’re at six. Work it out,” he says and he fucks in deep, seating himself in a few rough thrusts.

“Come, daddy?” 

“Get that towel under you. Make your mess where you’re supposed to, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s seven. You don’t swear when you’re my little boy.”

“_What?_ Daddy!”

“That’s eight. Get that fucking thumb into your mouth _now_,” he growls, low and vicious, and Steve shoves it into his mouth because that’s why the numbers kept going up. Fuck. When this ‘punishment’ is over they’re going to have a talk. A big talk about how this isn’t acceptable.

“You’ll sleep good tonight, baby, won’t you?”

He nods, sucks hard on his thumb when Bucky pulls out and slams back into him, riding him, shoving his legs up and up and then coming deep inside him. He pulls out quickly, which makes Steve yelp and spasm in discomfort, and the plug is pressed inside him. It isn’t very large.

“Daddy? It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“I know. But, it’s been a lot and you need your sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.”

“Why?”

“I think I’m going to keep you little for the weekend. We’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

“What if… what if I need you in the night?”

“If at all possible I want us both to get a good night’s sleep. I didn’t sleep well while you were away.”

“Me neither,” he confesses, and has to slurp. He yanks his thumb out of his mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Steve says.

“Swearing. Is that eight?”

He thinks about lying. “No. It’s nine.”

“Good boy. I didn’t expect you to tell me the truth. I wanted to get to 10.”

“What are you even going to buy?” He asks, annoyed.

“We’ll look, tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll take you to a toy store. You’re six so that works. And then we’ll get ice cream.”

It doesn’t ‘work’. Steve’s going to think about all the reasons it doesn’t ‘work’. They will be solid, coherent arguments, because he can’t spend the weekend pretending to be six. It’s torture. Excessive. Maybe he can tell Bucky that he was right, Steve didn’t lose the scarf on purpose and really didn’t need punishment. 

And, he was overly emotional, and therapy would have been too hard, and maybe that also doesn’t deserve punishment. Especially not if he’s going on Monday. So this punishment is nuts. Way over the line.

He falls fast asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have nothing for the morning after this. I want a clean slate for them and a good day. Suggestions welcome. like, right now I'm thinking toy store and ice cream and Steve being like 'are you serious?'


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> like I don't think it's watersports but if that's something you have a visceral reaction against then maybe ask me and I'll let you know?
> 
> there is no toy store yet. just lots of sex and Steve's emotional drama. but we are going to get that ice cream and toy store trip if it kills me!!!

Steve is sound asleep when Bucky pressed up behind him, kisses his jaw and pulls out the plug. Steve jolts in surprise and then at the warm wetness running out of him. Bucky wraps an arm around him, clutching onto his pec and pinching his nipple. Bucky’s warm and soft from sleep, all of him like silk and velvet against him. The slide of his skin against Steve’s when he’s barely awake makes it more intense than usual. Bucky’s lined up and pushing inside him before Steve can say a word.

He’s fairly tight inside. The plug has him opened enough that Bucky can get in him whether Steve is ready or not. Which is how it should be. But, he isn’t ready, hasn’t mentally prepared himself for this and it’s already too late, Bucky breaching him. He turns his face into the pillow, fist in Bucky’s shirt as Bucky’s slick cock spears inside him.

“Daddy. Oh, daddy. I can’t. I can’t,” he gasps, and Bucky’s hand leaves his chest and goes to Steve’s thigh, getting him opened a little wider as he presses all the way inside, not stopping until he bottoms out. Steve’s clenching around Bucky’s cock. He went from asleep and calm to overwhelmed and impaled, helpless.

“Shh, yes you can. Just let me,” Bucky grits out and almost pushes on Steve’s abdomen as he tries to drag him down or something.

“I have to go to the bathroom, daddy.”

“You can wait,” he says, dismissively, and moans. Is it intentional? His daddy letting Steve know how much pleasure he’s getting when Steve complains? Reminding him where the priority is, making him feel like an object. Or is it just so good inside Steve that he can’t help himself. Maybe it’s both.

Bucky pulls out completely, and Steve tries to catch his breath. “Relax,” daddy urges, and tries to press in again, but Steve’s body isn’t all that willing, clenched up hard in resistance, and daddy waits, watching for the moment to get back inside him. He puts a thumb on Steve’s rim and presses into him, feels the clench. “Easy. Daddy wants in now,” he says, and Steve nods and sobs, tries to go lax. To help.

“Bear down. That will help get me what I want from you.”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, quietly, obeying, and the head is back inside in a harsh, stinging slide.

“Perfect.” Bucky groans and presses on Steve’s abdomen again, keeping him still, hauling him down or just trying to make him frantic he doesn’t know, but Steve grabs the base of his cock so he doesn’t come.

“Get your hands up to the headboard and put your thumb in your mouth. Daddy is using you and you need to soothe yourself. Personal responsibility.”

“Jesus,” he gasps, and Bucky stops to shove the covers all the way back, get more leverage over Steve and then just lifts his thigh like Steve is some kind of doll and fucks into him. Bucky doesn’t have a lot of movement in this position but he’s deep and Steve feels pinned and helpless. Vulnerable and a little ridiculous to be kept open this way.

He watches Steve closely, hand on Steve’s perineum, brushing the rim and then behind his balls until Steve jerks in his grip. It pulls on his rim and he whimpers at the discomfort. “You’re just hurting yourself, sweetheart. Just lay there and let daddy use you. _Thumb. Now_,”and he digs his fingers in behind Steve’s balls again, making him jerk even harder and it stings and burns something fierce. He shoves his thumb in his mouth, blinking wetly at his daddy.

“There. Good boy.”

A shuddering breath comes out of Steve. Bucky touches his hand, where his thumb is in his mouth. Steve closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his daddy’s face. “This is good for you. You’re getting hurt. How do you take care of yourself? When you’re with me being little, when you’re in pain because daddy is hurting you, this is how. Do you understand?”

“Oh fuck,” he says, and shoves both hands over his face because it’s early and he’s already dropping into that helpless place where all he wants is to please his daddy and he’ll do fucking anything to make that happen.

“And there’s ten and eleven. That’s quite the start to the day. Swearing and you took your thumb out of your mouth.”

He’s trying to think of what to say when Bucky pushes on his lower abdomen again. Steve comes. It fucking hurts. He clenches on Bucky’s cock and that hurts and Bucky moves in a way that makes his rim sting. And it feels like he’s so fragile already. Hadn’t woken up properly and put on his defenses yet.

“Twelve,” he murmurs, and Steve loses it. It’s cry and give up or scream into the pillow and he just can’t fight it yet.

“Fine. Daddy.” He puts the thumb in his mouth and closes his eyes. Sucks so hard there’s a sound, which his daddy thankfully ignores.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for daddy.” He puts Steve’s leg down, half shoving him sideways into the bed and fucks him, the angle intense.

Bucky grabs Steve’s pec and squeezes his nipple, pinching and twisting and Steve is positive he’s going to come again, but then Bucky groans and slams into him, coming wet and hot inside him. Bucky’s hand falls away from Steve’s chest and he’s left dangling there on the edge.

“Daddy?” He says, around the thumb. He didn’t take it out. He’s being good. So good. His cock is so hard.

“Shh.” Bucky eases out of him and he feels filled with come, all of it trembling at the lip of his rim. He puts his hand there, to keep it in or catch it or maybe just have some idea of how much it is when it slides out of him.

“Poor, messy Stevie. Here you go, sweetheart,” he says, tenderly and presses a towel to Steve’s hole. Steve whimpers at the discomfort. Bucky gets out of bed and comes around to him, kisses Steve on the forehead. “Do you want to get up or go back to sleep?”

“I have to pee,” he says, quietly, not necessarily shy about it, but still feeling betrayed by Bucky pressing on his stomach. There’s an alertness to Bucky already, an intensity and Steve isn’t sure what to make of it. Whatever the course is, Bucky knows the layout and is ready to run it. Steve didn’t even know there was a race. “I don’t know what you want. Daddy.”

“Then you just say ‘yes’. Every time, you say ‘yes’ to daddy and I’ll take care of you. Protect you. It’s all for you, sweetheart. It’s only going to be bad if you fight it. We better get that cock down, hadn’t we?” He says, not waiting for an answer. Bucky reaches for him, jerks him off and he’s got another towel at the ready. White and rectangular and he’s close to the edge when he realizes they’re fabric diapers/burp cloths. He closes his eyes.

“Watch yourself.” Bucky orders, and Steve has to grab onto him, be connected with his daddy as he comes too quickly into the towel, Bucky milking him through it, catching every drop. “There you go. Nice and tidy. Not a drop on the bed. Good job, baby boy.” 

Bucky holds him in his hand, does a last gentle press against the head of his cock to clean him up and smiles at the thumb still in his mouth. “Not til I say you can take it out. Understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” he mumbles around the hated thumb.

“Up you go. Let’s get you to the potty.”

Even now daddy is hovering. Steve is red faced, can see it spreading up his chest. “Leaking, daddy,” he whispers, come spilling out of his hole. Bucky grins at him. Every smile is gentle, camaraderie. They’re on the same team. His daddy can be mocking and devastating but this isn’t that. His daddy only wants good things for him, right now.

That doesn’t mean Steve knows how to accept them. Steve’s got one hand keeping the wetness from dripping down his legs and the other thumb in his mouth and it isn’t until he’s standing in front of the toilet that he thinks of the logistical problem. Bucky wraps his hand around Steve’s cock.

“Please, no.”

“This is what’s happening,” Bucky says, firmly. “You can go number two on your own, but daddy is helping you today. This is part of you being so little. You make a mess and daddy cleans it up. We’ll stand here until you pee. If you get hard I’ll jerk you off and we’ll wait.”

It’s awful. He sobs and sucks harder on the thumb, trying to keep it quiet. He gets hard. He doesn’t even know why. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Let’s take care of this and we’ll see if you can go.” He spits in his hand and puts the wetness to Steve’s cock. Filthy. His daddy making a mess of him. He jerks him off, intent to just make Steve come rather that tease him. His grip is firm at the base, twisting towards the head and Steve couldn’t stop the orgasm from rising up inside him even if he wanted to.

Bucky mouths at his neck, sucks marks into his skin and bites him hard and then harder, presses closer and growls, oppressive, controlling, and Steve finally comes, most of it landing in the toilet but some of it is on the back of the raised seat and he just wants to fall apart and stay a shameful little mess with his daddy.

“That’s okay, good boy. Daddy will clean that right up,” he says, and he’s swiped it with tissue before Steve can even move. “Are you going to get soft, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he finally confesses. Terrified he isn’t. How can he say he hates this when he can’t fucking go soft?

Bucky gives it a minute and Steve goes soft enough where he could pee, but he can’t do it with Bucky there. Bucky presses a palm gently to his stomach. He rubs in slow circles. “This is no different then daddy helping you with your morning chore. Helping you with cramping. And daddy loves that. Because, I love you. Don’t you like it when I help you that way?”

“This is different.”

“I want this, Steve.”

Steve sobs. That’s all that matters. He closes his eyes and wills himself to go, tries to. Tries desperately, but he just can’t.

“Okay,” Bucky says, easily. “Let’s get some coffee then, shall we?”

He hauls Steve out of the bathroom. Fuck, he has to pee. They wash hands and Bucky puts him in a pair of white cotton panties, and Bucky’s robe, surprisingly fuzzy and large. It smells of him. He might live in it. It would make a very good blanket. He tries not to think about it. Bucky hurting him and getting to press his face into it, surround himself in Bucky’s scent and be cozy while his daddy forces him open. And then he could lay there to recover, hurting and weak and he’d still be so safe and warm.

It’s a scary thing to want it so much. The blanket. The thumb. Little things to soothe himself when he is in pain. 

Bucky leads him downstairs and into the kitchen. Steve can’t be away from him. He clings on like a limpet, head on Bucky’s shoulder while Bucky makes coffee. He watches the motions, thumb in his mouth, slouched low so the top of his head rests just at the curve of his daddy’s neck. The blanket. The thumb. He sighs in relief. His hole is hot and sore. He took care of his daddy.

They wait for the coffee to brew. Steve drifts, doesn’t know if his eyes are open or closed, if he’s asleep. He can hear his daddy’s heart beating, feel his own echoing it. Eventually, there’s a click, the coffee pot snicked back onto the hob.

His daddy is pouring his second cup of coffee. Because he was pouring one the last time he looked. He lost time again. Steve swallows and makes a sound and Bucky offers him the cup, letting him take a sip of his coffee. He cuddles back into Bucky. “What do you want?” Steve finally asks.

“This.”

Steve nods. Resigned and… it’s too hard to fight it. Maybe later. Bucky offers him another sip. “Yes, daddy,” he says, and waits for the fear to hit him. It doesn’t. Everything is okay.

“And more.”

“What?” Steve asks, soft and weak. He takes a breath, listens to Bucky’s heart. He isn’t crying. And that’s something. He’s calm. It might be easier if he isn’t fighting. Perish the thought. And he won’t admit to that.

“I want you to be my slave, 24/7 for the next six weeks. You’ll take a break from missions. I won’t keep you little all the time, but it won’t be up to you. I’m planning on going in for a few hours twice a week, just because I have a couple of clients that I can’t really shift over to a colleague. I have your collar. I’ll put it on you, but it won’t permanently lock until that time period is over. When the six weeks is up, we’ll go to the courthouse and make it legal. ”

Steve pulls back, fingers twining in Bucky’s shirt. “Are you insane?”

“No,” he says, after thinking about it for a moment. “You’re the most important thing in my life and this is what needs to happen now. If you want a reception or a wedding, we can do that. But, making it legal is the most important part, I think. I want you to have that security. You need to know that you are not alone and you belong to someone. And I want you so much I can’t hardly stand it,” he says, kissing him and holding him tightly.

And, that’s all… well, that’s what he’s always wanted and barely dared to dream about having, but there’s an urgency that Steve doesn’t get. “What are you even worried about?”

“You.”

“Why?” He asks, laughing, because it’s incomprehensible to him. “I’m a fucking super soldier.”

“A super solider who is in pain, who has trouble getting out of bed some mornings, and who apparently pretends so much and so well, that I can not read you like I thought I could. Saying you’re a super solider is just as self-negating as saying you’re Captain America. You’re Steve Rogers first. None of those other identities matter at all if you are struggling. I’m worried about the man I love. Your job is too dangerous when you’re fully engaged and well. Now, it’s just… you can’t, Steve.”

“Bucky, I’m fine.”

“No, I don’t think you are. I’m your daddy. Sometimes, I get to decide. Even when you don’t like it,” he says, but the tension is in him. 

“Not for this. Not for six weeks of staying home and you… not doing your _job.”_

“If aliens invade New York, maybe. Otherwise, no. Random bad guys, no. It’s not forever. But you need some time, where you’re not fighting, so you can figure out who you are and what you want.”

“I want you.”

“Yes. And you need more than that.”

“I’m sorry, but… I can’t do that.” Should he apologize? It’s so insane he isn’t even sure.

“You can. It’s uncomfortable and weird, but you can. You have the weekend to think about it before you decide, baby.”

“What happens when I say no?”

“_If _you say no?”

“Buck,” he says, softly.

Bucky pours Steve his own cup of coffee and hands it to him.

“Will you… will you leave me?”

“No. I’m with you to the end of the line, sweetheart.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you’re wearing a collar that goes in a circle, than I guess it means forever, doesn’t it?”

He thinks about that, a promise that doesn’t have an end because there’s no weakness in the links binding them together. It’s a lot to think about and process so he shoves it aside. LEt’s it tick over in the back of his mind while he sits on the couch and drinks his cup of coffee. As long as he’s in the process of drinking, he doesn’t have to suck his thumb. It just means he keeps the cup pressed to his lips, pretending to blow on it like it’s hot.

Bucky fluffs Steve’s hair with his hand as he walks by. He wants to tell him to quit it, but it might sound a little petulant and he might pout. So, he doesn’t. Bucky turns on the tv, leaving it on a cooking show with some Southern woman who uses more butter than anyone should, in some recipe that does look really good. It is the land of plenty. There is a lot of butter in the stores. Why not throw in an extra stick just because?

“Do you bake?” He calls, loudly, so Bucky can hear him in the kitchen.

“No. Why?”

Steve grunts. No reason. The show ends and some woman starts talking about bread. It’s a hell of a lot of flour. And kneading. It’s a little hypnotizing. “Have you ever made bread?”

“No. Why?”

“It takes a hell of a long time.” Why would anyone want to make bread? The scene cuts to the woman getting to cut into the bread, and then she puts way too much butter on the bread, and moans about how good it is after having a bite. Huh.

His cup is empty. He really has to pee now.

He goes to the kitchen. “Breakfast almost ready?”

“Yup.”

“Great. I’m starved, daddy.… So, I’m gonna go wash up and we can eat.”

“Sure.”

Steve turns to hurry away. He’s going to pee and say that’s what they agreed. He’s got a decent argument.

“You touch that cock, baby boy, and I will spank your pretty little hole raw, do you understand?”

“Buck!”

“Steve!” He says, just as indignant. “I can make this so unpleasant for you, you have no idea. I’m being nice. Do you want to go potty before breakfast or not? You’ll feel better.”

“How? How could you make it worse?” He demands, wondering if it’s an empty threat.

“Off the top of my head? Get that suction cup dildo you love so much and stick it to the wall while your dick is in a bowl. You can get up when you pee and I come check on you. With your attitude it’ll be at least an hour. Then I’ll fuck you. And, I guess, if I was feeling _really_ sadistic and wanted you to cry, I could leave the bowl on the ground and have you keep sucking that fake cock you love so much. You’d get that DP you were so hungry for.”

It’s awful. It’s disgusting and depraved and he’d fucking hate it. A bowl of his own piss just there while Bucky fucks him to make a point. The humiliation. The degradation. And Bucky says it like it’s nothing because his daddy can be fucking terrifying. He’s like a high school tennis star challenging Roger Federer to a match. He is out of his fucking league. 

“Daddy, no,” he begs, and reaches for his shirt.

Bucky chuckles. “You asked. That is not how I want the day to go. I want us to have a good day with cuddling and softness, baby.”

He takes Steve in his arms.

“Daddy. I’m not arguing.” He is, but not a lot. “But, this is watersports and that’s a hard no. We agreed?” Steve says.

“Me pissing on you is watersports, this is just…me giving you a hand,” he says, smiling. So fucking pleased with himself. Steve sighs, and gives up, clunking his head on his chest. Idly, he wonders if he could he say red. How long was that ‘no red’ rule in effect for? He doesn’t want to ask.

“Why, daddy?”

“You know the answer.”

Because Bucky wants it. He wipes his eyes on Bucky’s t-shirt. “I don’t understand why you want it, though.”

Bucky tilts his head up, kissing him gently. “It doesn’t fucking matter. I don’t owe you an explanation. You only need to say ‘yes, daddy’. I don’t know what number you were at, but you’re over 20, don’t you think so?”

His only options are to walk away or surrender. He won’t defy his daddy. Not today. Bucky kisses his face and down to his neck, his hand presses between Steve’s cheeks and the wet panties from where he’s leaked a bit more of his daddy’s come. “Sweet baby. My pretty little boy. Let’s have breakfast. Let’s get you cleaned up and have a nice day together where you just say ‘yes’ to daddy and let me take care of you. It’s not forever. Just stop fighting for now.”

“I don’t…. What do you think is left of me if I stop fighting?”

“When I lost my arm, that was my question. I’d done a hell of a lot of fighting and I’d lost who I was for a cause. This is the question every soldier has to ask when they leave the theater behind. If I asked you that now, ‘who am I without the fight?’ What would you say?”

“You help people and molest your boyfriend,” Steve says, and he hears Bucky huff a laugh.

“Exactly. And you, too, can be just as well rounded as I am. You have to have an answer to that question. And you’re working so hard to try to ignore the question and pretend you don’t need that answer, that it’s destroying you.”_ _

He leans a little harder into Bucky and chews on the end of his thumb. “I’ll do today, daddy.”

“Good boy,” Bucky whispers. “I love you. Do you want to go potty before you have breakfast?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, and has a strange rush of excitement go through him. Bucky takes his hand, fucking beams at him and leads him to the toilet. Stands behind him, gets Steve’s panties down and holds him in his hand. If he doesn’t pee immediately, he’s going to get hard. Bucky’s hand settles on his stomach, fingers flat and wide, steadying him.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Deep breath.”

His eyes are closed. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out, and thank god (or not?) he pees. And he really had to pee so it’s a relief. Not just the relief of getting to pee but in being good and doing something difficult. He’s almost light headed when it’s over. He’s not saying he wants to do it again, but the pleasure of that relief, and the afterglow is a lot like coming.

“Good boy.” Bucky dabs a tissue to get the last drop and flushes the toilet. He takes Steve to the sink and washes his hands. It’s just like the coffee shop when he utterly freaked out, overwhelmed with fear because he wanted Bucky so fucking much, and now he’s here, living with him, in his robe and he gets to be his boy. Those two events couldn’t be further apart. It seems like a lifetime ago.

“The last time you washed my hands, I was such a mess.” Bucky makes a non-committal sound. “I was _worse_. I’m not saying I’m great now, but I was worse.”

Bucky laughs. “It was to be expected. You were a perfect boy who couldn’t find his daddy. Of course you were a mess.”

Yes.

That’s _it_.

_That’s exactly fucking right._

Steve feels like he should write that down, get it tattooed on himself so he doesn’t forget the perfect distillation of the problem. “Daddy,” he says. “You’re right. I was lost. And you found me.” He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry with relief. Grief that it’s taken this long to find him. That he can look at his life as before and after and have it be good. Before he had his ma, then he had no one. Before he was small, then he had the serum. Before he was weak and then he was strong. Before the ice, after the ice. Those are all of the ways he’s evaluated his own life, the lenses he viewed everything through and even if they were once right, they’re not right now. Now, he can think of his life as before daddy and after daddy. Before a home and with a home.

“Fuck,” he gasps, sick and happy with it. “Daddy,” He pushes his panties down and moves the robe out of the way as best he can without taking it off.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, already shoving down his pants, stroking himself to hardness as he kisses Steve’s neck.

“You. I just… you’re right. Daddy. I found you. I don’t know how I made it without you,” he says, and Bucky runs a finger along his hole, slides through the wetness, evaluating if he can get in him immediately or not. He’s filled with lube and come still, he knows it. It’s enough. Daddy slides his cock through the mess, bumping Steve’s balls before pressing the head to Steve’s hole. “_Now_, daddy.” It’s urgent. It’s imperative to lock the feeling and the knowledge in place. He needs his daddy.

“Yeah, you’re alright. Little loose. Here you go, baby.” He says, fucking up into him.

Steve cries out, grabs at him, twists his head to kiss him while his daddy fucks him hard. He isn’t quite slick enough, and it feels almost like his cock clings to his insides which is difficult to process, inspires a base fear that he might get really hurt. “Daddy,” he pleads, and looks in the mirror, watches Bucky watching him. Bucky is pounding away inside him and Steve goes to his tip toes and stays there until Bucky hauls him down, forcing that last few inches into his guts.

“Fuck, daddy. Yes, yes.”

“You’re mine, Steve. I found you. I fucking own you, baby. I’ll keep you safe. I found you,” he growls, and his hand jerks Steve off, making him come, while his other hand slips around over his chest and grabs at his neck, all that metal holding him still. He can’t fight against it. Can’t move. His daddy has him safe. Bucky comes with a groan, having to support Steve because he’s gone weak and quiet. Once again, there are no tears. It’s just… floaty. His daddy has him. Minutes pass and the echo of his daddy saying that he loves him, that he found him pulses through him.

When he’s back to himself he realizes it’s real. Bucky holding him, still kissing his neck, telling him he loves him. That he’s home. Found.

“I’m okay now, daddy,” he finally says, gravelly. Bucky releases him carefully. Steve’s thighs are soaked, Bucky’s cock no longer inside him and he doesn’t know when that happened, either.

Bucky pulls up his panties. They’re wet and awful and he’s such a filthy slut now. Bucky washes up while Steve clings to him and Bucky has him sit on his lap so he can feed him breakfast.

All those years. All that time. Before and after. Lost and found.

It’s only six weeks.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cracks knuckles. Age Play. Let's do this shiznit.

Bucky has an Audi. Steve had no idea. Bucky gets them bathed and dressed and they go by Steve’s to get his last box of possessions and leave his key behind. This is it. Bucky is holding Steve’s box of stuff and Steve hesitates before closing the door. “Last chance to back out of living together.”

“Very funny,” he says, sarcastically.

Steve closes the door and leans against it. He feels giddy. Light. Oddly free. He follows Bucky back to the car as he puts the box in. As soon as Bucky closes the trunk Steve is on him, pressing him against the car and kissing him. “Thank you, daddy.”

Bucky holds onto him tight for a long moment. “Everything is better now. I don’t know if it feels that way for you, but it’s right, sweetheart.” Steve can feel how much Bucky wants him to agree and be reassured, how convinced he is that this is right for Steve.

“It does. Leaving the apartment just made it real. Before the serum, it was all about survival. Stay fed and housed, and then it was survive the war and survival is a good goal, but… I think somewhere along the line I wasn’t quite sure what the point of it all was. I was fighting and surviving to help _other_ people survive. There wasn’t anything I wanted for myself. I didn’t even think about wanting something. Now I want you. And this, and…” he swallows hard, holds onto Bucky’s sweater. “I trust you. I’ll try not to forget.”

“Good boy. Now the toy store.”

He groans. Wants to take it back. “Yeah. I’m nervous. How do I decide what to get?”

Bucky shrugs. “Just look around. Worst case scenario, I suppose you could think of it like you’re buying it for someone else. It’s for your nephew. Stevie. He’s very precocious. What would he like?”

“Hmm,” Steve says. “Is that like I’m disassociating from my own inner child?”

Bucky gives him a look Steve can’t interpret and urges Steve to get into the car. He’s so nervous he doesn’t even want the ice cream yet. They need to get the toy store over with.

“How many things do I have to buy?” He asks, when Bucky parks.

“I’m buying. And, at least eight things. One of which should be a stuffed animal.”

He holds Bucky’s hand and Bucky makes him switch to the metal one. “You’re squeezing too hard.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Then they’re in the toy shop. It’s a mom and pop store and late enough in the day that it’s empty. Most people on their way home from work or something. They do an initial look around. “What if I want something really weird?” Steve asks, still holding on tightly.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, barbies or a whoopee cushion.”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“You get something. If you get something, I can get something,” Steve says.

Bucky goes straight to the stuffed animals and picks up a bear. It’s wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket.

“Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“No, I’m not. I want this one. This is my bear. Bucky’s bear and I will put him on the bed next to whatever you get.”

“It’s not even all that cozy looking. Who wants to hug something wearing a leather jacket?”

“Apparently, not you, Mr. Judgemental. And that’s fine. Because this isn’t your bear.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s Bucky’s bear. Got it,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey. How about a giant lego thing of the Death Star and then you can build it while we watch the movies?” Bucky’s already picking it up, turning it over in his hands. It’s a massive fucking box. “I’ll put it on the counter,” Bucky says, walking away. Who the hell are they here for?

Steve picks up a ball and squeezes it, bounces it. Maybe. “Should I get a bear, too?” he asks, when Bucky comes back. Bucky is texting.

“If you want.” Bucky’s distracted. He shoves the phone into his pocket and looks around. “Hang on. Sam wants a Death Star so I’m gonna go see if they have another one.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. He does age play all the time.”

“I still don’t like him,” Steve says.

Bucky kisses him on the forehead. “That’s very mature of you.”

“I’m six. I don’t have to be mature.”

Bucky chucks him under the chin. “There you go. You’re getting it.”

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Oh.”

Bucky adds a Disney Villain’s puzzle to their pile at the counter. “Have you heard Poor Unfortunate Soul? It’s one of the songs from the Little Mermaid?”

“No.”

“It’s great. That’s like the sadist anthem… of Disney movies.” Sometimes being with Bucky is really normal and sometimes it isn’t. Steve picks up a stuffed dog. A fairly realistic, quite large, white, husky stuffed animal that he can easily carry under one arm. It’s very soft. He carries it around the store for a bit, practically forgetting he has it, but then he needs two hands to take something off a shelf and he realizes he’s been holding onto it for a good five minutes.

Bucky holds out a hand and takes it without a word. He’s looking at his phone which Steve is grateful for. Like he knows Steve is embarrassed so he’s pretending it isn’t a big deal.

Bucky tucks it under his arm. It’s just nice to carry. Bucky picks up a stuffed ice cream sandwich with a happy face that’s the size of a bed pillow and turns to take it to the counter.

“What do you want that for?” Steve asks.

“Nothing,” he says. And blushes.

“Oh my god. You’re a pervert,” Steve hisses.

Bucky holds it out to him. “Just hold it. It’s comforting. You could put your arms around it and cling onto it while I—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, interrupting him. “I get it. Just… take it to the counter,” he says, looking away. The idea of getting fucked hard while he’s called a little boy and he cries into the stuffed pillow is so much hotter than it has any right to be.

“Do you like crayons, pens, pencils or what?” Bucky asks, holding a coloring book.

“I don’t want a coloring book. I’ll draw my own picture.”

“Well, there you go,” Bucky says. “We’ll just go to the art store after this.”

“What about ice cream?”

“I don’t forget ice cream,” Bucky says, almost offended.

“Right,” Steve finally says, because it’s been half an hour and he’s got plenty of things but there’s still something he wants, he just doesn’t want to get made fun of. “There is something I want. But, you’ll make fun of me.”

“I won’t. I _swear,_” he says. “Trust me, I am fully aware that anything even close to teasing or mocking will have you storming out the door and I’ll never get laid.”

Steve rolls his eyes at the over reaction, because Bucky will always get laid.

“Fine. I want that baby,” he says, and goes to the doll aisle. It’s a French brand, Corolle, and it’s a baby boy. He smells like vanilla and it comes with a bottle and a stupid blanket and a ridiculous bassinet and even a rattle, and it’s really lame, but he fucking wants it. Bucky takes it to the counter and grabs a small stuffed giraffe too. It would go well in the little cloth bassinet. God, what is his life?

Bucky sends him down to the art store while he pays and Steve goes happily. He’s reached his level of embarrassment and just wants a break. And the art store is awesome. What the fuck is wrong with him that he hasn’t made more effort to go to art stores? There are a lot of very cool things and Steve does have a lot of money. Plus, he’s going to be home for six weeks.

He stares at the watercolors and lets that sink in. Home for six weeks. Taking a break and being in his new home with his… fiance? He puts a steadying hand on the rack in front of him. Jesus. What a thought. The visceral resistance he’d initially felt isn’t there. Bucky wants this for him. For them. And he used to be able to spend days painting and drawing, get absorbed in a project. It would be nice to feel like that again. The pleasure of creation.

They have art classes and he takes a flier. His daddy will be so happy if he goes to an art class. Perhaps the one on origami, which Steve knows fuck all about, but which has pretty paper. When Bucky arrives, Steve is deep into a second basket of supplies and Bucky wanders over to a chair in the corner and starts reading on his phone.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, just wanting to make sure.

“I am so fucking happy I could sit here all day,” he says, seriously. Steve gives him a kiss and finishes shopping. Steve doesn’t let Bucky pay for this. He wants to do it. It’s for himself. They’re on their way to get ice cream, but there’s a diner that does good milkshakes so they go there and get food and shakes which is even better than ice cream.

“Funnily enough, I came here with Sam. This is where Natasha ambushed me and threatened my life if I hurt you.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

Bucky laughs. “Isn’t it?” He takes Steve’s hand. “I told Sam you were the one. He thought I was nuts. Genuinely having a break down. I think I said something to the effect of, ‘I don’t believe in soulmates, but he’s mine.’”

Their food gets put down. “Jesus. I can’t decide if I want to eat or cry,” Steve says, reaching for a napkin. He takes one of Bucky’s onion rings. He has to chew for a bit, because there is a lump of emotion in his throat, but he’s happy and he gets through it. Bucky is blushing and Steve squeezes his leg under the table.

“Soulmate. That’s a big, non-scientific word there, daddy.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

He nods. Pays careful attention to his shake so he doesn’t sob everywhere and climb into Bucky’s lap like an idiot in love.

Chocolate malt shakes are amazing.

After food, they go home and put all the toys in the living room.

“What will people say if they come visit?”

“They’ll say it finally looks like someone lives here.”

Steve laughs. “It’s a little on the model home side,” Steve says. “But, people will want to know who the kid is.” 

“Just say I have a niece and a nephew who come by. And who’s going to visit?” Steve shrugs. “Someone. Anyone. It’s possible.”

Bucky doesn’t seem all that worried about it so he tries to let it go. He gets them both something to drink and sits on the couch while Steve takes his… toys out of the packaging. Bucky puts his feet up and Steve stops what he’s doing, the doll free and in his hand. He stares at it. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? He can smell it from here. He wants to put his arms around it and press his lips against the baby’s head, but….

“Come here, sweetheart. Bring your baby.”

He clutches it one big hand, sort of holds it against his body, but not really and goes to Bucky who looks content but tired. He holds out his hand to Steve, wanting him on his lap. He goes happily but then the embarrassment rises up in him and he stares between them, down at the baby, which looks very, very small, and waits. Bucky runs his hands up and down Steve’s arms.

“I don’t know what to do now.”

“Do you know how to hold a baby?” Bucky asks, softly and puts his hands over Steve’s.

“No, daddy.”

“Let me see him,” he says, and takes the baby. He sets it between them, the little back resting on Steve’s stomach, his onesied feet on Bucky’s stomach. Bucky touches the little hand, presses the little toes. “In some ways, there really isn’t much to do with a baby. You keep them fed and warm and dry and then you just hold them and let them sleep. They like to sleep different places, like here, or in your arms or in the bassinet. You should always keep the baby close by if you’re playing with him.”

“Okay,” he whispers, oddly emotional about it.

“It’s a responsibility. Taking care of something beyond yourself and keeping it alive. Do you have a name for the baby?”

“No.”

“Well, you can think about it. And you can tell me or you can keep it to yourself. That’s your baby. I have a baby, too,” he says, and touches Steve’s face. “Uh oh. What tears are these, my good boy?”

He shakes his head, uncertain.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Is it a lot?”

He nods. They sit there for a few minutes and then Steve gets up, sorts out the bassinet and puts the baby in it, the thin little blanket going over him and the giraffe tucked in next to him. A weird relief goes through him. The doll is fine for the night. He picks up the ice cream sandwich pillow and looks at his daddy.

“I have to go to the bathroom, daddy.”

Bucky stands up, picks up the dog, too and herds him up the stairs to the bedroom. The stuffies go on the bed and Bucky takes Steve to the bathroom and undoes his pants, Steve turning towards the toilet while Bucky holds his cock. He gets hard before he can pee. Which is very uncomfortable. It even hurts. “Daddy,” he pleads.

“It’s okay. We’ll try again in a bit. Come to bed and daddy will help you get that little cock down.” He takes Steve to the bedroom and takes Steve’s clothes off and then his own. He gets Steve’s collar and cuffs, clips his ankles together and gets his wrists together, too. The restriction of his movement is lovely, makes him feel content and safe as Bucky gets him arranged in the bed like he wants. He hands Steve the pillow, slips it between his arms so it’s against Steve’s chest and Steve turns to his side, holding onto it.

“Please?”

“What would you like?” He asks, kissing Steve’s arm and touching his hip.

“I don’t want to make a mess, daddy.”

“Okay,” he says, chuckling fondly. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and he goes into the closet, comes back with a pair of panties that only have straps for a backside. He unclips Steve’s ankles and puts them on him, tucking a cloth into the front of his panties, thick and over his cock so he won’t make a mess on his stomach, either.

Bucky pets the fabric, his touch muted. Steve rolls to his back, pressing his hand over Bucky’s trying to grind into him and get more feeling. “Come, daddy? Harder?”

Bucky smiles at him but doesn’t go harder.He lifts Steve’s hand away and gentles the touch, petting him softly and Steve squeezes the pillow, presses his face into it and breathes, wanting to settle down. He wishes Bucky was in his mouth, that he could suck on him. He flexes his hand, looks at his thumb. He wants it, but isn’t comfortable doing that. 

“Daddy, come?” he asks again, aching and throbbing, the frustration of his cock and his empty mouth exacerbating each other. The touch is maddening and awful now. “Need to, daddy.”

“Poor baby. Hold onto your pillow. Daddy is going to play with you and then use you. I’ll be right back,” he says.

“Will I come?” He asks, quietly.

“I don’t think so,” he says, sympathetically. It makes him weak, makes him fall apart that he can’t come and he shoves the pillow up so he can sob into it.

“Thumb, sweetheart. Take care of yourself.”

He sticks his thumb in his mouth, and sucks hard, almost choking because he’s trying to sob and suck at once. Steve turns to his side, curling into the pillow and letting the tears flow. It takes a bit off the arousal and Bucky comes back, has him turn over to his back again and carefully gets his panties down. He lifts the towel back, revealing Steve’s achingly hard cock, the head flushed so dark it looks bruised.

The towel is fairly wet.

“How pretty is that?” he asks, looking at Steve fondly. Steve almost comes.

“Little baby with a hair trigger. We’ll be careful, won’t we?”

Bucky opens up a tube of something and puts a thick glob on his fingers. He touches the head of Steve’s shaft carefully and then puts some on his balls. He waits a moment and then takes an agonizingly long time to get Steve’s balls and cock covered in the cool cream. “Don’t come,” he says, warningly and carefully lifts Steve’s cock, fingers at the base, to keep him off his stomach while he puts more cream on him. When it’s everywhere, he hands Steve a condom. “Put it on yourself,”

“Daddy?”

Bucky waits. Steve rips it open with trembling hands, breath all uneven as he puts the condom on and rolls it on slowly. It keeps the cream inside. He’s achingly hard but not nearly as close as he was.

“How about another one?”

“What?”

Bucky hands him another condom. “Why is it all numb?”

“Because this is what daddy wants right now.”

He puts the condom on and Bucky rubs the cream into Steve’s balls gently. Steve sighs and lets his legs open, the touch so good but frustratingly difficult to feel. He groans. Bucky touches his cock and that’s even worse. He’s numb and there’s no sensation at all as he touches the head. He flicks his finger against the latex and Steve whimpers and then groans because the feeling never showed up. He should have flinched. That might have been enough to send him over, but now there’s nothing.

“Better, sweetheart. I’m excited to see how you like this.”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, as Bucky puts the panties back, then he adds the towel which is the end of his strength for keeping up a brave face. “I can’t come, daddy. I need to,” he says, wiping his eyes on the pillow, trying to curl into Bucky. “Daddy, daddy.”

“If you can come, go ahead. You can’t use your hands but you can grind, okay?”

He puts his thumb back in his mouth and sucks. “Good boy, Stevie.”

He tries to focus on that. He can come. He just needs to get there. It’s difficult but he has a hair trigger. He always comes. He’ll come this time, too. It’s fine. Bucky gets Steve filled with lube and stares at his hole for a bit, holding his cheek open. “Very pretty, Steve. The most beautiful hole I’ve ever seen.” Steve sighs happily. It’s true. Bucky presses his knuckle against Steve’s hole, the muscle twitching and finally relaxing. “Are you empty, honey?” 

“Yes, daddy.”

“And how’s this tummy?” He asks, touching it gently. “Do you still have to pee?”

“Yes, daddy,” he says, after a moment. It had become unimportant, but now that he’s thinking about it, it’s more urgent. But, he’s hard. He needs to come so he can pee. And his daddy has him all covered up and numbed and, “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby? How about you turn over so I can get some relief.” Bucky’s cock is hard, leaking, and he gets up on the bed. Steve turns over, tries to grind into the bed and he can’t hardly feel it at all. “I have to pee. I have to come. Daddy?” He gets his thumb back into his mouth and sobs as he tries to grind into the bed. He can’t. Bucky hauls his hips up and back and now there’s nothing against his cock. “Daddy, no!” he gasps. “Come, daddy. Please, please. I love you. Love you. Please? I’m a good boy.”

“You are a very good boy. Beautiful and you make me so hard. Be a clever boy and figure it out. You can’t go pee until you come. I know you can make that happen, sweetheart.”

“What? I can’t. There isn’t anything. I want to rub against the bed, please?”

“Daddy has to fuck you. You know better by now, don’t you?” Bucky presses a finger into Steve and pumps it in and out. It’s… not like usual. There’s no sting. A second finger goes in and he arches back, waiting for the sting which doesn’t come. “Daddy?”

“Here’s my cock, sweetheart. You’re ready.” He lines up behind him, holds Steve’s hips steady and presses in, slow and steady, pausing at the half way point and checking on him. Steve sobs hard. “You put it in me?”

“I did. Poor little baby.” He presses in completely. Steve’s full. There’s a dull ache, but Steve’s pain tolerance is high and this is nothing. His daddy numbed him there, too.

“I can’t come from this, daddy. I can’t.”

“Work it out,” Bucky says, roughly, and Steve knows Bucky isn’t even really paying attention to him anymore, he’s turned his attention to his own orgasm, to coming inside Steve and Steve wiggles, balls pulling sluggishly tight, the idea one he loves so much he thinks that might get him to come. It doesn’t. 

Steve tries to go to the bed, to grind into it, but Bucky won’t let him, smacks his ass to stop him. “Spank me!” He begs. Because he felt that. A sharp jolt. Something, anything. He comes so hard when he gets spanked. “Daddy. Please, please spank my hole. Spank my ass. Please?” 

“No, sweetheart. We’ve got some training to do still with spanking. Make sure you know it’s always a good thing.”

“I know, daddy. Please, please?”

“God, you’re so hot and tight, sweetheart. I love being inside you. You’re so good to daddy.” Steve almost comes from that, and he whines and tries to fuck back onto Bucky, get a good slam deep inside his guts. He wants to feel it in his abdomen. Bucky doesn’t let him. He’s slow and easy. He rides Steve contentedly and it’s so gentle and inoffensive, so soft he hates it. He presses his face into his arm, sucking on his thumb and having to snuffle around it from the tears and how stuffed up he is.

He has to pee. He has to come. He can’t do either. “Daddy, daddy, please,” he begs, in that high voice, the sound murmured around his thumb. He turns so Bucky can see him. How good he’s being.

“Good boy. What about your stuffy? Go ahead, little boy.”

He sobs, so desperate he doesn’t even pretend to not understand. He shoves it lower and spreads his legs, humping it properly, face in the bed as he tries to rub the orgasm out into the toy.

“Oh, baby. I love that,” he says, and gets in close and low, arm on the bed, but letting Steve be curled and hunched as best he can, so he can fuck the pillow and still have Bucky’s dick in him. He grinds hard, desperate to come and it presses on his bladder. He groans in painful pleasure, moves off the pillow, back onto Bucky’s cock which ratchets his desire up and forces him back to fuck the pillow. He moans, and his voice cracks as he begs for Bucky to help him.

“You’ve got it, sweetheart. Keep it up. I love it,” he says, and puts his hand, flat and gentle against Steve’s stomach. “You’re full, aren’t you honey?”

“Please, daddy. I need to… but it’s _stiff_.”

“There you go,” Bucky groans, giving him a hard slam as a reward. “Tell daddy the problem. You have to go pee pee?”

He crams the pillow tighter against his cock and ruts down into it, fucking hard and fast, not wanting to say it. Sharp thrusts that just aren’t quite enough. The dick in his ass doesn’t go deep enough and he has to pee. It hurts. It’s all too much. What will happen to him?

“Daddy. Yes, my… I have to go pee pee. Please?”

“Good little baby. Good boy, here, baby,” he says, and slams deep again, jolting Steve deep into the stuffy and he groans and shakes, so numb he can’t come even though that should have been enough. Under any other circumstance he’d have come so hard already. Multiple times. He wails in frustration.

“And what else? Are you stiff between your legs?”

Desperation suffuses him. “Daddy? You’re being mean.”

“I’m here, good boy. Sweet little boy. Tell daddy and I’ll fuck it right out of you. Help you. I love to help my little boy. You need to go pee pee. You’re stiff. Go on now. You need to use your words for me. That’s how you make daddy come, get daddy to help you.”

He sobs and whines, reaches for Bucky with one hand and puts his thumb in his mouth with the other. “My pee pee hurts, daddy. It’s too stiff. I want to go potty. Need to go pee pee. Please?”

And his daddy covers him, soft and soothing, kisses his neck and murmurs to him about how proud he is. He sucks his thumb and Bucky presses him into the pillow, fucks him deeply, dragging Steve’s cock up the stuffy and down again, over and over, the orgasm getting close now. He surrenders to Bucky’s hard thrusts, rocking up the bed and deep into the pillow and down again, pleading with little sounds for his daddy to keep going.

“Stiff, daddy. Hurts.”

“Very, very good, Steve,” he growls. So proud that Steve nods. Bucky must be proud of him. This is right.

“Stiff and want to go pee pee. Daddy help me? Daddy? Come? Please? It’s going to happen, daddy.”

“Of course, you can come. Of course it’s going to happen. Good little boys get what they need. Hush now. Little angel.” Bucky moves him a little hard hand between the pillow and his cock and he thrusts again the pain rolling through his shaft as his numb cock goes over the metal hand. Steve comes, feels a bizarre echo of it in his balls and the base of his cock but he can’t feel anything in his shaft or the head. Not even that there’s wetness.

He whimpers and shakes and then there’s a buzzing and Bucky presses a vibrator to Steve’s balls. “We’ll keep going, get it out of you so you can get that stiffy down, baby.”

“Hmm, uh huh,” he says, grinding deep against the pillow, and his daddy’s helping hand, straining for the next orgasm. He comes again. Whimpers with it and tries to get a different angle on the pillow under him. “Daddy? Is it going to hurt?” he asks, and takes his thumb out for just a moment while Bucky kisses him. As soon as he can ,the thumb goes back in and he moans in relief.

“Beautiful, Stevie. I like that very much,” he says, firmly and then moans. “You’re going to make your daddy come, you’re so good.”

Steve whines, pain building in his groin. “Daddy, I don’t want to be stiff anymore. I need to go pee pee now.”

“Almost, baby. Fuck, you get me so hard.” And Bucky fucks him harder than he has, slamming into Steve’s bladder and he cries out, both in love with and detesting the intensity of it. He comes in Steve and Steve whines, on the edge, the vibrator is back, Bucky’s cock comes out and two fingers slip into him, rub at his prostate. He sobs and sucks his thumb.

“Good boy. So sweet,” he says, and Steve comes, horribly oversensitive, groaning in misery at the relief. The fingers come out and Bucky presses a cloth to his hole, kisses Steve for long moments and tells him how good he is. The best little boy. Which makes him happy. Simple and uncomplicated.

“Want to go pee pee now.”

“Good boy. Daddy will help. Can I help?”

“Yes, please.”

Bucky rumbles something into his neck, pleased and helps Steve from the bed. They go to the bathroom and the towel tucked into his panties is soaked, come leaking out of the condoms and filling the towel and his panties. The condom comes off easily. He can’t feel Bucky’s hand on his cock at all. Bucky touches his stomach, rubbing little circles and Steve pees, absolutely beyond protesting.

“Lovely,” Bucky murmurs and Steve sags back into him with relief. He drifts, finds himself leaning against the counter hand on his own small, soft cock, touching it while it’s numb. He takes his thumb out of his mouth when he catches sight of it in the mirror and looks away, pouts and puts his thumb back in, wanting to stay happy and simple for a while longer. “Daddy. Little boys shouldn’t have stiff pee pee’s,” he says, touching himself.

Bucky sits on the edge of the tub and has him come closer, sit on his lap. “Tell daddy what you mean.” He shrugs and sucks his thumb harder, knows he’s red and embarrassed. He tucks his face into Bucky’s neck nd plays with himself gently. He loves that he isn’t hard. That he’s so small there. “If I’m little I want to be little.”

“Are you asking daddy to put your little boy cock in a house when we play like this?”

“A cage?” He asks, dumbly. Pretty sure they’re talking about the same thing, but he’s dozy and content and just wants to keep floating along.

“It wouldn’t be a cage, sweetheart. It’s not a punishment. It would be a nice thing. Keep you little. I think it would help with your headspace, clever boy. So, it’s a house. Understand? We could keep you protected down there? When you want to be little there, too. Daddy would be in charge of it. Keep hold of the key.” Steve nods.

The tub gets filled, lots of bubbles and it smells nice. Steve gets put on his feet. “See what it looks like before we get in,” his daddy says. Bucky gets the cage and puts it on him. They look in the mirror. He’s soft and small, dainty. In some ways, although it’s noticeable, it’s now almost the least important part of him. Not a cage but a house.

“Let’s get you a bath and we can put it back on,” he says, and takes it off. Steve gets into the bath and Bucky gets in with him, washes him up and gives him a cuddle and lots of kisses. Bucky dries him off, clicks the lock on the cage and gets him tucked into bed. He gets the dog in his arms and Bucky spoons him from behind.

“Daddy, my… blanky?”

“Stretchy? Isn’t it under your pillow?”

“Daddy, that’s a very silly name for a blanky,” he says, quietly.

“It’s up to you. As long as we don’t call it Lulu or something.”

Steve reaches under his pillow and finally finds it wedged back behind the headboard. He pulls it out. “Stretchy was almost lost.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we found him, too, isn’t it?”

Steve kisses his daddy and goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time writing little/regressive age play and I have no idea if this works or not. lemme know por favor! and, finally, a happy fucking chapter!
> 
> Happy Mother's Day! Also, I totally thought I was up to date with comments and I wasn't!!! I'm sorry if I didn't respond a few days ago. I don't know what happened. I will try not to get off track again as I love the comments so much and appreciate the effort you all go to and how engaged everyone has been.


	39. Chapter 39

It’s Tuesday afternoon and Steve is doing a puzzle when Nat calls. “What are you doing?”

“I’m currently doing a 1000 piece return of the Jedi puzzle. What are you doing?” A thousand piece puzzle sucks. He’s never doing it again, he’s decided. There are pieces everywhere. He even found one in the bassinet this morning. An edge piece he’d looked all over for.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Not a lot. So, you’ve seen Star Wars?” she asks like that’s the relevant question.

Steve sighs in answer, “No I have to watch it this afternoon. Apparently it’s mandatory or something,” he says, pouting and throwing a glare towards the kitchen where Bucky is.Bucky has no idea he’s getting glared at so it’s not all that satisfying.

“I haven’t seen it, either,” she says, and lets that hang there.

“Well, if you’re here by two, you can have dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, and some apple slices with me. But, you’re gonna have to put the work in on this puzzle. I’m thinking about just throwing it away.”

There’s another pause. “I’ll call you back,” she says seriously and hangs up.

A moment later, Bucky’s phone rings. Steve listens because he’s pretty sure it’s Nat and he has no idea how the conversation will go.

He’d told Nat on the Monday morning that he was taking a break. She’d been so relieved she got teary-eyed. Which made him teary-eyed. He’d then called Maria and told her and she’d told him to have a good time and said she wouldn’t call him unless they were positive the world was ending.

Then they’d gone to therapy. Steve had cried. For the first ten minutes solid. Then he’d talked a little bit about Bucky and his work and it was all shallow and light enough that he felt like he could do it again. Bucky had been so proud of him. He’d brought him home and eaten him out until Steve couldn’t take it anymore, put him in his cage and they tried making bread.

It was a pretty good fucking day.

Now it’s Tuesday and he’d slept in, which had been weird but fucking amazing because he’d been able to get his daddy hard in the night and then ride him while he was half asleep and Bucky had stayed in him until he slipped out and Steve went back to sleep feeling really messy.

He’d sketched this morning and they’d gone to the grocery store and now it was play time. Which, fine. He’d made more bread and it was sitting out to rise at the moment. 

Bucky says ‘hello’ and then listens for a bit, makes a hmm sound and sighs. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”

There’s more talking and Bucky is silent. Then he says, “Of course you can. You can do whatever you want. And, he’s really into you, so I wouldn’t worry about it. Maybe just wait on any furry fantasies if you have them. What’s a furry? Forget I said anything. Give it a month….There’s a lot of, uh huh, yeah... no, I get it,” Bucky says.

He hears stirring. Bucky is making him chocolate milk. 

Bucky scoffs. “What do you want me to do, _count them_?” he asks, slightly indignant. Another _hmm_ sound. “Fine, hang on.” Steve hears the freezer door open and then there’s a rustling sound. “You would get eight nuggets,” he says, “and apples… no, there’s no dessert because it’s _lunchtime…._ Yes, you can have chocolate milk. Yeah, okay. What do you say? You’re welcome.” He says.

Bucky brings him chocolate milk. “She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Do you think we should put some stuff away?”

“No, she’s expecting to come have a play date. I talked to Sam yesterday while you were in therapy and he was saying they’ve tried age play but she’s apparently a bit of a terror. Seriously, I think she’s going to get an Easy Bake Oven out of Sam and the words ‘glitter explosion’ came out of his mouth.”

Steve laughs. “I thought he liked to be the little?”

Bucky shrugs. “I think they’re taking turns.”

Steve drinks his milk. “I don’t think I want the cage while she’s here, daddy.”

“Fair enough. Do you want to take it off now or in a little bit?”

Steve looks at the time. “Maybe half an hour before she gets here?”

“That works. Give you a bit of time to come back to your grown up self.”

“Yeah,” he says. He could argue, but what’s the point? “By the way, I hate puzzles,” he says, and gets up onto the couch and sits on Bucky’s lap.

“Good. I keep stepping on them and the living room is a bomb site.”

When Nat arrives, she comes straight to the living room and sits on the floor cross legged. She looks around at the toys, picks up the baby and starts undressing it, then redresses it. “Okay, I get it. Do you have Barbies?”

“No.”

She rolls her eyes and then stares at the TV. “What the hell is this? Is he a dog or an alien?” she asks. Steve wonders if that’s what he looks like when he pouts. Bucky sets down some carrot sticks and Nat glares at him. “What the fuck is this?”

“Language!” Bucky says, trying not to laugh.

“Sorry. Do you have ranch or something? Please, _Mr. Barnes_?”

“Yes, I have ranch. I’ll go get some since you asked so nicely. And, his name is ALF and he comes from outer space. I don’t know anything else,” Bucky says, and walks away.

Nat is looking at the puzzle, glaring really as she turns a piece over and over in her fingers. “It goes here,” she says, and slams it in with her fist.

“Okay, you are like _the worst.” _Steve says_, _a little shocked at just what a brat she is. She smiles sweetly at him, “If you tell our daddies I’ll shank you with the spatula from my Easy Bake Oven.”

When Bucky comes back into the room, Steve’s mouth is hanging open. “She’s naughty,” he says.

“Steve, no one likes a tattle tale,” Bucky says, and puts down a little container of ranch dressing.

“Oh fuck,” Steve says, because he can already imagine the crap she’s going to do to him.

“Steve. Language,” Bucky murmurs.

“Yeah, Steve. _You_ need to watch _your_ language for a change.”

By the time Natasha leaves, Steve is curled up on the couch with his dog, staring at the tv and Natasha has put his hair in tiny braids. Bucky shows her out and Steve sits up. “Daddy. Can I put my cage on?”

“Go ahead,” he says, and Steve goes to put it on and comes back. If he does it then there’s no chance of him getting hard. He comes back into the room, relieved as he climbs into Bucky’s lap.

“Daddy, can I use my safe word with Natasha? Or… or have a playdate with Sam next time?”

“Yikes. That bad, huh?”

“She said we’d make glitter bombs next time and she’d do my make up and dress me up pretty and… she’s a _horrible_ little. Her daddy needs to spank her.”

“That’s a good reminder, babydoll. Let’s get it out of the way. Over my lap now.”

“Daddy, no,” he says, moving over his lap. He puts his thumb in his mouth and has his dog in his arms.

Bucky pulls down his pants to just below his cheeks. “Perfect,” he says. “Would it make me a really filthy pervert if I took advantage of you as my little princess if she’s got you all dolled up?”

“Hell, yes, it would!” He grinds the cage into his daddy’s thigh and groans in frustration. “Promise me you won’t, daddy.” God, the idea of it is so hot.

“You’re laying it on a bit thick, princess.”

“Yeah, you need to be laying it on— _Oh_!” He gasps, as Bucky spanks him. He wiggles and arches into it.

“Are you good, babydoll?” He asks, checking in with him.

“Hmm, so good, daddy. Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Eight weeks later, there’s a week long trial mission away. Steve falls back into leading easily enough, but there are a few moments where it’s clear that a few people have been filling in and doing a good job of it. A giant man named Mack and his girlfriend, with the ridiculous nickname of Yo Yo, are the most obvious, although he’s pretty sure May could take on any and every danger herself.

By the end of the mission he’s certain that he isn’t the only person in the world who can help fight, and it turns out the world actually will go on without him. Which is bittersweet.

And, leaving to go on the mission had been much more complicated than he’d expected.

Steve hadn’t been idle in his time away from the Avengers and SHIELD. The first few weeks had been a bizarre sort of grieving process and he’d spent a hell of a lot of time crying, sleeping, having nightmares and getting taken care of by his daddy. Everything exhausted him and leaving the house to go to therapy or to go on a walk had been just about all he could take.

And then things had gotten better. Therapy had become more intense but he always left a little surprised at the things she’d told him. For example, he deserves to be happy. It’s okay to be happy. Just because he can do something doesn’t mean he needs to. It’s okay to want help and to take it.

Who knew?

Leaving for the mission meant he’d had to cancel his drawing class at the VA and he’d had to have someone else step in because he couldn’t bring in pastries for the usual therapy group meeting he attends twice a week. He usually brings a bread on one day and a muffin or cupcakes on the other.

Usually, he goes with Sam to at least one of the meetings and they have lunch after.

The biggest problem with leaving (well, besides missing Bucky but that’s just obvious) is that he isn’t there to help with the dog and there is an expectation of a morning and pm walk and if for some reason Steve isn’t around to take their fur baby out into the neighborhood then something may get chewed on. Which is part of the reason they’ve named the dog Ransom.

Sam and Nat are still dating and they both take turns being little. His playdates with Nat are dreadful. He always winds up getting spanked after them and it’s never his fault, Nat just gets him into trouble because she’s a manipulative mastermind and he’s just a boy who wants to play legos.

Sam is good to have a playdate with because he also likes legos, but Nat has this bizarre governess persona she puts on when Sam is little, and the high necked blouses and smacking of the ruler against her palm terrify Steve.

Even though his daddy would never hit Steve with a ruler or wash his mouth out with soap or any of the other corporal sort of punishments her and Sam seem to enjoy, there’s always a very good chance that the moment they get home Bucky is going to fuck him rather brutally. He seems to get a vicarious charge out of Nat’s sadism. So, really, everyone wins.

Playdates are always good.

Between the art and the dog, the VA and the therapy, the bread-making and Bucky only working a few days a week, Steve is busy and content. He’s started doing some fundraising for the VA with Pepper and he goes with Tony to visit sick children every few weeks and he’s happier. So much fucking happier that he can practically see how miserable he used to be like something in the rear view mirror. He dreads becoming that unhappy again.

He made Bucky promise him, as they lay in bed and Bucky traced his fingers over the links in Steve’s thin vibranium collar, that he’d intervene if he thought Steve was becoming unhappy. His daddy had kissed him and promised to watch out for him, and it was the first time he’d really felt like he should be crying but wasn’t.

Not to say that he doesn’t still cry a lot, especially when they’re having sex, but it’s almost like he cries because he wants to, because it makes him feel closer to his daddy, and it gets him cuddles and a weird relief, not because he just can’t stop himself or contain his misery.

They’re just leaving the zoo after a double date with Sam and Nat when Steve turns to Bucky and says, “How bizarre is it that going to sex therapy was actually the best thing that ever happened to me?”

His daddy gives him a kiss on the nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Friends! I realized part of the reason I was so sad at the end of last week was because the story was coming to an end and I've so enjoyed all the chatting and comments and connection there's been during quarantine and I'm aware that the odds of replicating it in another story are not as high. 
> 
> But, this story is long and is basically done. Maybe I'll get a bit of distance and want to come back to this world (seems more likely than a lot of other stories I've written but IDK) but as of this moment I'm looking forward to starting something new. By which I mean posting. Quarantine still is unending and writing Stucky is still how I seem to spend a ridiculous amount of time so I think there will be a new story (as well as the sugar baby story) starting tomorrow or the day after. it might be a gentle dom Bucky bdsm au or it's CATFA daddy kink, breeding kink, rough sex story. I very much hope to see you there :) Stay safe!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment. We're all trapped in the house for the next several months anyway, so why the hell not?


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